Rewrite the Stars
by Cissnei69
Summary: "Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry.
1. Chapter 1

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 1. The Man with Ice Blue Eyes**

Twelve years old Harry Potter blinked as she stepped inside the Gryffindor Common Room to find a mix of Second and Fifth Years students gathered in front of the notice board.

Albeit curious to find out what was going on, the small girl hesitated to move, wondering if it won't be better to go back to the dorms instead of forcing herself to interact with people who, not so long ago, had bullied and excluded her because of a single rumor born from fear and malice.

Surely her curiosity wasn't worth the pain and effort.

"…talk to her…"

"…don't you go?"

Harry jumped, turning her head to see a familiar lanky red haired boy and a bushy haired girl standing not too far from her, their heads down as they whispered to each other while throwing a few looks in her direction.

Feeling her heart squeezing painfully against her chest, she turned her head away from them, looking down at her shoes.

No matter how many people had excluded or bullied her, no matter how uncomfortable she felt about all of it, Harry hadn't cared all that much about the actions or thoughts of all other Hogwarts' students.

Not only they didn't matter to her but she was also used to this kind of thing.

After all, her relatives had never said a single positive word about her, be it inside or out of their house. They saw her as freak of nature just as they had convinced the whole neighborhood that she was some kind of degenerated delinquent. And then there was her cousin and his gang; no hex or curse was worse than being kicked or pushed around by a group of boys who were two times bigger than her.

But when it came to Ron and Hermione…

The red haired boy and the bushy haired girl had been her _first _and _best_ friends. The three of them had gone through so much together last year and the way they had immediately distanced themselves from her because of that rumor about her being the Heir of Slytherin or how they ignored _hurt_.

Harry had never truly felt lonely until the day Ron and Hermione turned their backs on her.

"…need to talk to her before she hides again."

"Ok, lets go." She heard Hermione mutter. Harry didn't even need to look up to know that the older girl had grabbed Rom's arm.

By the corner of her eyes, she noticed that the duo was actually walking in her direction. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked from the two other Second Years to the crowd gathered around the notice board.

It wasn't all that difficult to decide which one she would have deal with.

She knew that she should talk to the duo at some point but Harry really didn't want to do this now. So, scanning the crowd, she quickly found one of the few people in her life that she could – hopefully – currently call a friend.

Taking a deep breath, Harry quickly approached the crowd, stopping beside Neville Longbottom.

The blonde haired boy was staring up at the notice board, making a face as he seemed to think about something. Harry threw a look over shoulder, sighing with relief when she saw that Ron and Hermione backed away, before making sure that no one would pay her any attention as tucked the sleeve of Neville's robe.

"What's going on?" She whispered.

Despite the fact that her voice was nothing but a whisper, Neville jumped in fright. The chubby blue-eyed boy relaxed when he turned his head to see that it was Harry that standing so close to him.

The raven haired witch smiled softly.

Neville was part of the very small group of students who had never believed in that nonsense about her being the Heir of Slytherin. The blonde had even tried to help her a few times whenever someone bullied her but no one ever took him serious (Thankfully, they also ignored him. The last thing she wanted was for them to start bullying him because of her).

"It's a announcement about a meeting we'll have with Professor McGonagall today." Neville whispered back. "All Second Years will be speaking to her about what classes we want to take next year."

Harry nodded, hugging her school bag against her chest.

She knew about the electives Second Year students could take in their Third Year and to be honest, Harry barely had any idea of what they would be learning in those classes. This meeting would be a great opportunity to learn about them before making any kind of decision .

Looking away from Neville, the small witch craned her neck in an attempt of reading the notice on the board.

**ELECTIVES**

_All Second Years are required to attend a short meeting with their Head of House today. In this meeting, they will be given the opportunity to discuss their future electives. Please note that times of individual appointments are listed below. _

Harry's green eyes moved down the list and didn't stop until she found her name. She, the young witch found out, was expected in Professor McGonagall´s office at two in the afternoon, meaning that she would be missing her Charms lesson that day.

She grimaced at that.

Harry loved Charms. The funny Professor Flitwick was one of her favorite teachers and _yeah_, maybe she was biased. After all, he always helped her and was the only teacher who spoke of her mother instead of talking about James Potter over and over again every time they looked at her.

_I wish it was Potions_, Harry thought. _Snape would be happy to not see me in his class._

Understatement of the century.

"What about the Fifth Years?" Harry asked after a moment, curious to know why the older students were also crowding around the notice board.

Neville blinked, "Oh, well – Our meeting with Professor McGonagall is about our electives but theirs will be about their career choices."

With that, he turned around slightly to point to at the tables of the Common Room, all of them surrounded by Fifth Year students and covered by batch of pamphlets and leaflets concerning various Wizarding careers.

"I see…" Harry muttered

Nope, she really didn't.

As interesting as some of those pamphlets were ("There're actually people who train Trolls?" Harry sputtered in disbelief only for Neville to scrunch his face and nod his head), Harry found the whole thing rather confusing.

She knew that the Fifth Years needed that kind of information because of their N.E.W.T.s but shouldn't the Second Years also talk about career choices? After all, what if she decided to try a career later on only to learn that she hadn't chosen the proper elective for it? What would she do then?

Shaking her head clear of those kinds of thoughts, she turned her attention back to Neville. Harry could talk about it with McGonagall later.

"Do you know what electives you're going to take?" The small girl asked as they walked away from the crowd and moved to a free corner of the Common Room, settling down in front of the fireplace.

Neville scrunched his face, looking a little put out. Harry sighed; she was pretty sure she knew what he was going to say.

"Gran wants me to take Care of Magical Creatures, Divination and Ancient Runes." He replied, rather dejected, "Those were the electives my father had chosen."

_As expected_, the green-eyed witch thought as she forced herself to smile, nodding before she mentally cursed Augusta Longbottom.

The older witch was so fixed in trying to mold her Grandson into a copy of his father that she was blind to how much damage this was causing.

And people still wondered why Neville was so shy.

The blue eyed smiled a little bit, "What about you Harry?"

She blinked, thinking about it for a moment and trying to come up with a answer.

At the beginning of the year, she had planned to take Care of Magical Creatures and Divination, mostly because that was what Ron said he would be picking and she had wanted to be with her first friend (She would have chosen the same classes as Hermione as well but the older girl wanted to take _all_ of them).

But now…

Harry turned her head a little to see Ron and Hermione standing on the other side of the room, looking like they were arguing about something.

"I… I have no idea." She admitted.

Neville patted her shoulder, "I'm sure you'll decide soon."

Unfortunately, that wasn't the case. Harry tried to look through a few books to understand a little bit of the offered subjects before having to talk to Professor McGonagall but even with all information she got, the raven haired girl was still indecisive about her electives.

"Miss Potter?"

Harry jumped, head snapping to the side. From behind her desk, Professor McGonagall arched a eyebrow, managing to look curious, amused and stern at the same time.

The green-eyed girl made a face.

_When_ had she reached the Transfiguration teacher's office? She hadn't even noticed that she left the Great Hall after lunch.

"Will you stand there all day?" McGonagall asked.

Harry shook her head, "No – Sorry."

The older black haired witch waved her hand dismissively and Harry moved from the doorway, closing the door behind her and then taking a seat across McGonagall.

"Biscuits, Miss Potter?" The Professor offered, making a motion to a tray of biscuits on the far end of her desk.

"No, thank you," Harry replied, watching as McGonagall opened what looked to be her file, "I just ate."

There was a moment of silence.

"Very well – Now, Miss Potter, what electives will you be taking next year?" The Professor asked, holding a eagle-feather quill to make any kind of notes if necessary.

"I-I don't know." She muttered, looking down at her hands. "I can't decide."

McGonagall sighed, "Well, that's normal. No need to be ashamed – Would you like learn the definition of each elective, Miss Potter?"

Slowly, Harry looked up, nodding her head a little.

The Cat Animagus hummed at this, leaning back against her seat before she started talking about each electives as well her own experiences with them. Harry paid attention to every single word that came out of the Professor's mouth and by the time the sharp eyed woman finally stopped speaking, Harry knew what she wanted.

"I would like to take Care of Magical Creatures, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy." Harry said after carefully thinking about the pros and cons of each class.

Giving her one of her rare smiles, McGonagall made a few notes on the file across her. Harry grinned as well; from what she heard about those classes, they were going to be rather fun.

"Can I help you can anything else?" Professor McGonagall asked.

Harry quickly shook her head, blinking the woman sighed with disappointment before dismissing her. The girl gave her teacher a look but walked out of the room, heading to the library with a confused look on her face.

What had just happened?

Harry shook her head and shrugged. Nah, forget it. Whatever the Transfiguration Professor was disappointed about couldn't have possibly been important if she just dismissed Harry like that.

* * *

As the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the Hogsmeade's station in the morning of June 19, Harry found herself sharing a compartment with Neville.

The green-eyed girl couldn't help but smile as they spoke about their future classes and the latest book they read. At some point, they started playing Exploding Snap and Harry even taught him a few silly Muggle games like hang-man.

And, by late in the afternoon, Harry could say that maybe – hopefully – they were better friends than before they stepped inside the train.

And, honestly, it felt to have a somewhat-close friend once again.

"Maybe we could write over summer?" Neville suggested shyly, just a little before the train reached the King's Cross station. "If you want to that's it." He added, sputtering a little, "I never really had friends that I could write to, only my cousins and –"

"I don't mind." Harry cut him off, smiling cheerfully despite how sad she felt at the realization of how similar the two of them were. "It'll be nice."

The chubby blonde haired boy smiled back widely. Then, he asked her about the plants on her Aunt's garden and the conversation only stopped after the two of them stepped through the barrier of the platform nine and three-quarters.

Waving at Neville as he walked away with his Grandmother, Harry started looking for her relatives, walking around in an attempt of making her search easier.

"Oh," She muttered under her breath when she finally noticed a familiar gorilla like man, "_Great_…" Not.

Uncle Vernon was, unfortunately, standing a good distance from Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, eyeing them suspiciously and getting the same look in return.

Grimacing when she noticed that all Weasley children, including Ron, were standing behind their parents, Harry lowered her head and made her way to her Uncle, acting like she hadn't seen the family of red-heads.

Harry loved Mrs. and Mr. Weasley. She truly did. They were kind and had opened their house to her without a second thought. But talking to the couple would very well result in awkward conversations and the twelve years old was all for avoiding it right now.

When he saw her, Uncle Vernon greeted her in his usual fashion.

"Come girl," He snarled, "We don't have all day!"

Without waiting for a answer, the large dirty blonde haired man turned his back on her and started stomping toward the exit. Harry, of course, followed after him as fast as she could.

For such big man, Uncle Vernon could be very fast.

"Harry, dear!"

Harry started walking faster at Mrs. Weasley's voice, sending her a half-hearted smile and wave over her shoulder. Although she wanted to avoid the Weasleys, that didn't mean that was going to ignore Mrs. Weasley completely when the woman was talking to her.

Her actions took only a second, just a mere second, but it was enough for some kind of accident to happen.

Had she said how much of a trouble magnet she was? No? Well, she was a trouble magnet.

"I'm so sorry!" Harry winced, looking horrified at the tall man she had just ran over with her trolley.

Ignoring Hedwig's complains, Harry walked around the trolley to kneel next to the man, make a half-conscious note of how much black he was wearing (Almost as much as Snape did), and checking to see if he wasn't hurt.

"I'm really sorry!" She repeated, "Are you alright… sir?" Harry blinked, noticing that vacant, cold ice blue eyes were staring at her unblinkingly.

It was rather uncomfortable if not to say creepy.

"Re… Rebecca?" The man muttered, finally blinking as he started to look dazed, as if someone had hit him in the head and he was trying to remember something.

Harry paled.

_Merlin!_

_She _had hit him with the _trolley_! Had he hurt his head? Was trolley-induced amnesia a thing?!

At the same time, her Uncle bellowed, "Girl! What did you do?!"

Large hands made a motion to grab her arm and yank her up only for the man's gloved hand to reach out and take hold of Uncle Vernon's wrist, gripping it with enough strength to bruise if not to break it.

Harry winced as the man looked away from her to narrow his eyes at her Uncle. If possible, those blue eyes looked colder than before.

"…Don't… touch _her_…" He growled, his voice wavering with a mix of accents.

The green-eyed witch blinked, taken aback by how _protective _this strange man sounded. It would have been nice, if she _knew_ him.

When Uncle sputtered, looking pale and people started to gather around them, Harry knew that she had to act.

So, with a shaky smile, she placed a hand over the man's arm.

"I'm really sorry about this." She said, feeling proud of herself as her words came out calmly rather than panicked, "But we need to go. Right, Uncle Vernon?"

Her Uncle nodded his head with enough force to break his neck.

The man turned to stare at her once more. Harry stared back, waiting. Soon, he drew his hand back.

"Thank you." Harry stood up, not all surprised when the dark haired man followed, "And I'm sorry again." She bowed her head slightly, not waiting for a reply before following her Uncle once more, Hedwig rattling along in front of her.

Just before she stepped outside, she turned around to check if the blue eyed man was still around.

He was no where to be seen though.

That, however, didn't explain why she felt like those ice-blue eyes were still staring at her.

**So this was basically a introduction. Oh, just a warning. I'm not and will not be bashing anyone. This story will be told mostly from **_**Harry's **_**POV, at least in the beginning, so things are described as **_**she **_**sees them.**

**Also, friends change and grow apart. Unfortunately, this kind if thing is part of life... but the Golden Trio will make up… later… **_**way **_**later.**

**Anyway, hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 2. Lack of Self-Preservation**

Yawning, Harry checked the old clock hanging in the wall of her room. It was nearly two in the morning and there she was, doing her History of Magic's essay while everyone else in the house was sleeping in their warm and comfortable beds.

Harry made a pause, griffin-feather quill hovering over the parchment she was using to write her essay on. Slowly, she looked at the door, hoping – _praying_ – that it wasn't one of the Dursleys because if any of them heard any sound coming from her room at this hour on their way to the bathroom, she'd probably find herself locked in the cupboard under the stairs for the rest of the summer.

And now that she had a room of her own, no matter how bare and impersonal it looked, the green-eyed girl had no intentions of going back to cupboard.

When no one came barging into her room in fury, Harry turned her attention back to her essay, holding her flashlight a little higher so she could see her reference book properly.

Only a few more paragraphs and she was finished. After that, Harry thought with a grimace, she needed to work on Snape's nasty essay about Shrinking Potions and their uses.

Shaking her head, Harry reached out to grab her ink bottle. Slowly, she unscrewed the bottle and dipped her quill into it before continuing to write her essay about the British's Witch Hunts.

"There," She muttered a few minutes later, closing her copy of _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_.

Carefully to not make a single sound, Harry walked to the corner of her room where she had hidden her other essays as well some of her school books under her Invisibility Cloak.

As much as she hated to use her Family Heirloom for such thing, it was unfortunately necessary.

The moment she returned to Privet Drive from Hogwarts, her Uncle locked her spellbooks, wand, cauldron, and broomstick into the cupboard so she couldn't have any contact with magic during the summer.

Hadn't the teachers given her a lot of summer homework, that wouldn't have been a problem.

But they had and, in the end, Harry had to wait until her relatives had gone to bed before she crept downstairs, picked the lock on the cupboard with two hairclips, grabbed some of her books and then quickly moved back to her room, hiding everything under her cloak.

Just as she turned around to sit down once more and start working on Snape's essay, she noticed a shadow move by the corner of her eyes.

Harry stared for a moment before she leaned to the side a little so she could look out of the window, trying to see what had moved outside. There was nothing though.

Maybe it was just her imagination?

Harry rubbed her eyes, wondering if this was her body way to tell her to go to sleep.

Despite this, Harry sat down and started to work on Snape's essay. A essay that took almost an hour to finish and, looking at it, she knew that Snape would more likely throw it at the trash; her handwriting looked horrible and there a few ink stains in the parchment.

Well, at least she tried.

Standing up, Harry stretched before she moved to hide her Potions' essay and book together with the others. With an yawn, she dragged herself to her bed.

Immediately as her head touched her pillow, she fell asleep.

Had she stayed awake for only a few seconds, though, she would have noticed the figure observing her from the tree outside in the front yard before they disappeared.

* * *

Harry paused, looking over her shoulder with narrowed green eyes.

For days now she had been feeling like someone was following her around, observing her movements. But, every time the twelve years old girl tried to find the source of that feeling, it disappeared.

It was starting to freak her out and, honestly, she was beginning to understand why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia freaked out when her Hogwarts' letters kept arriving with ridiculous accurate address.

Clutching her handbag against her chest, Harry scanned the street one more time before setting off towards the library.

Just as she made a turn down the street, her cousin Dudley and his group of friends came into view. She scrunched her nose, quickly hiding behind a large lilac tree while praying that they won't see her.

Her cousin hadn't bothered her since the day she came back to Privet Drive. Dudley had been far too busy with his friends to beat up girls in his spare time and she had made sure to stay out of his way, afraid that of he saw her, he would want to play _Harry Hunting_ or something.

"…squealed like a little girl, didn't he?" Gordon barked a laugh as he said.

The others voiced their agreement.

"Nice right hook there, Big D," That was Piers, a rat looking boy and Dudley's childhood friend.

That's it, if one could even call their relationship _friendship_, Harry thought with disgust, it was more like a gang leader and minion kind of thing.

"Are you guys coming to my house tomorrow? I have a few new games." Malcom, or at least that was who Harry thought it was, bragged.

"You bet!" Piers exclaimed.

Gordon groaned, "I can't, the old man wants to visit my Grandmother tomorrow. We'll stay away the whole night."

"That's too bad, man." Piers said, not sounding even a little sympathetic.

Actually, he sounded a little gleeful and, of course, Gordon was far too dense to notice it but then again, they were all Dudley's friends so that wasn't surprising.

"You have know idea." Gordon grumbled.

They spoke a little more before the boys had to go home for dinner. Harry waited for all of them to move on, checking to see if none of them had taken the path to the library. When she was sure that it was safe, the small witch started walking once more.

Hopefully, she would be able to get there without any kind of troubl – Harry cut her thoughts off, groaning.

Dudley, who was standing just across her, grinned.

"Well, well… Look who we have here. Hello, cousin." He sang, his loud voice echoing through the empty street.

And _of course_, it was empty.

Harry could never be lucky enough to be confronted by her cousin in a place filled by witnesses.

"Dudley," She nodded her head slowly, trying to keep going only for him to reach out to grab her arm.

Harry flinched away.

"Where do you think you're going, Freak?" Dudley asked, hitching up his trousers as he tried to give her a look of superiority. It was nothing compared to Malfoy's though. "Shouldn't you be at home cooking our dinner?"

The green-eyed girl didn't answer.

Had Dudley paid attention to anything that his mother said, he would have know that she informed him that morning that the Dursleys would be eating out night. That was why she was going to the library; she wanted to use the computers for a while before she had to go to back to Number Four and finish her almost endless list of chores.

"So?" He demanded.

She took a deep breath, "I'm not cooking today."

"You're going to het in trouble, Freak."

Harry ignored the stupid grin on his face and shrugged a little.

"No, I won't."

And she wasn't kidding.

Aunt Petunia was in such good mood at the thought of eating in a fancy restaurant that the boney, giraffe-like blonde haired woman won't even care if her sweet Duddykins came whinnying to her about the Freak disagreeing with him.

"You will."

"Whatever you say, Dudley…" She said, getting tired of this whole conversation. "It isn't like you would believe me if I told you..." Harry muttered, far too low for him to hear.

He narrowed his eyes at her, "What did you say?"

Harry sighed, hunching her shoulders.

It didn't matter what she told him, he would just accuse her of lying and then using it as a excuse to hit her.

"I asked you _what did you say_?!" He clenched his fat fists, jaw seething.

And _there _we go.

"Nothing."

"I don't believe you."

She didn't reply, knowing that that would just make him angrier.

"So?! Speak when I'm talking to you, Freak!" He snarled, reaching out at her once more.

This time however, she closed her eyes. The awaited blow never came though and instead, she felt someone hovering behind her.

Cautious, Harry opened her eyes to see Dudley frozen, arm raised and staring up in pure horror. Turning her head, she quickly found what was so terrifying.

It was the strange man from the station.

He was once again using all black, although Harry noticed a considerably lack of leather in his attire which was replaces by a long coat. And his eyes – He was staring at Dudley with that same – _murderous _– protectiveness in his cold ice-blue eyes that she had seen that day at the station.

It was like he was promising a world of pain if Dudley touch her.

"Move." The man growled.

The _or die _was left unsaid but even her dense and stupid cousin heard it because his skin had gone from pale to paper pale.

"MUUUUUUM!" Dudley howled, tripping over his feet as he ran down the street and in direction of Privet Drive. "MUUUUM!"

After her cousin disappeared from view, the twelve years old girl gave a few, cautious steps away from the man. He didn't move, keep his hand in plain view as if he was trying and failing to look inoffensive.

"…I…" He blinked, lips pulling down slightly, "…I won't hurt you…"

The green-eyed girl gave him a look of pure disbelief.

"You…" Harry gripped her handbag firmly in one hand and raised it over her head as if it was a baseball bat.

The witch doubted that it could help her all that much against someone as dangerous as this looked to be but she could still used the red-beaded hand bag as a form of distracting before she started running for her life.

"You have been following me." She accused him, recalling all the times she felt like someone was watching her.

There was a moment of silence.

"…Yes…" He made a pause and not just because it was clear that he wasn't used to speak so much. No, it was like he couldn't understand by his own actions, "…I… You… I _know_ you."

Harry blinked.

Her mind went blank as she blurted out, "A lot of people know me."

And she wasn't kidding.

She was pretty well known around the neighborhood because of the rumors Aunt Petunia liked to spread about her and she won't even mention how well known she was in the Wizarding World… Harry hated to even think about it.

The man shook his head, running a gloved hand through his dark shoulder length hair.

"No."

She gave a step back, giving a odd look, "So you don't know me."

"No." He repeated, frustrated. "Yes."

Harry frowned a little, heart squeezing against her chest painfully as his voice broke at the end. He looked like a puppy – A very lost and sad puppy who had nothing and no one.

"_Why're _you following me?" She asked, lowering her handbag a little. Her muscles were still a little tense and she was still ready to bolt if necessary but…

But this man looked like he needed help somehow.

"Your eyes…"

Said eyes blinked and the girl stared, stunned, "What?"

Ice-blue eyes stared back at her but Harry had the feeling that he wasn't seeing her. Not really. It was like he was staring past her or like he in deep thought.

"They're green, like hers… You've Rebecca's green eyes…" He blinked one, two, _three _times before shaking his head, "…You… You look like her, but you're not her…?"

Harry didn't say anything and merely observed.

The man clenched and unclenched his fists, sounding more and more pained as he spoke, "You're older than her and… and your hair isn't red…" Harry watched with a heavy heart as the man took a deep shaky breath. He looked to be seconds away from a break down, "My sister… They _wiped _her away, _they_ took her from me and _you_… _You_…"

"I look like her." Harry whispered softly, relaxing for the first time the man showed up.

The man didn't say anything.

There was no need to. Harry thought that she was good enough at reading people's emotions to recognize the fear, confusion and despair on his face. The witch sighed and dropped her shoulders in defeat, knowing that she couldn't possibly walk away from him now. Not without help him first.

The twelve years old took a deep breath.

"You know, sir… I'm going to the library." She said softly, causing the man to blink at her. Harry gave him a small smile and offered her free hand, "Why don't you come with me?"

_Self-preservation__?_, Harry thought with a hint of dry humor as the poor man took her hand, _What's that? Never heard of it._

If she died because of this decision by the end of the day, Harry wanted to make it clear that Hedwig would be inheriting everything she owned.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**Chapter 3. Surprise, Surprise!**

The man, Harry decided as they shared a sandwich, needed help. Not _her _help, but _professional _help.

Although she was only twelve years old, it didn't take long for her to understand that he had been _conditioned _to ignore his own needs and follow orders to the letter and without complaint. Several times along the day, Harry had to ask if he wasn't hungry or if he didn't want to go to the bathroom but all he did was blink and stare at her as if he couldn't understand what she was trying to say.

And then, there was the problem with his memories…

He didn't know much about how it happened aside from one single sentence about falling nor did he remember all that much about his sister aside from the basic that Harry already knew, but when he did remember something, it wasn't anything good.

"They…" He made a pause, "There was a chair." Harry had immediately regretted having asked him to try and remember the cause of his amnesia when she saw the look in his eyes, "It would – Would reset me…?" He blinked, confused and a little bit dazed, "After the chair, I… I would be locked in ice…" The man then turned to stare at her, "I had nothing but orders but _you_… You looked like Rebecca and… I started to _think_, to _remember_, to…"

He stopped talking, looking down at his gloved hands. The look on his face was heartbroken.

Any doubt and hesitation Harry still had about help him disappeared right there and then. She just couldn't leave him now. No one deserved to live like that.

Nodding to herself, she wrote a list of what needed to be done so she could help him remember, making sure to check every item with the internet, and break whatever conditioning he had gone through. It wasn't much but she could always look through the few magical books she had later to see if there was some kind of spell or potions to help the man.

The man stayed in silence as she used the computer across her to search some of the topics on her list, watching as she made a few notes or took deep breaths every time she started reading about something far too _dark _for a twelve years old.

It was only one hour later that Harry noticed something.

"I don't think introduced myself. Did I?" Harry asked, looking away from her notes.

The ice-blue eyed man stared for a moment before shaking his head slowly.

"Well, I'm Charis Potter. You can call me Harry though, everyone does." She smiled a little.

The small girl hadn't expected him to say anything but, in the end, he did, "They call me the Asset."

She wished he had kept quiet.

Harry looked away from him, blinking furiously as she tried to not cry. That – That was just cruel, as if he was nothing but a object. Whoever _they _were, she hoped they would never see the blue-eyed man again.

"Uh," Harry said, looking at him, "That won't do. You need a real name, Mister."

She bit her bottom lip, thinking about it. In the Wizarding World, it was well known fact that names had power; parents either blessed or cursed their children upon the naming ceremony. So, she couldn't just pick a random name and give it to him.

He would have to stay as _the man _until she found something suitable.

"Harry, dear!" Harry turned her head to look at the old librarian. The white haired woman waved at her from behind her desk, "Your Aunt called, she wants you back home."

"Yes, Miss Hawkins. Thank you." The small witch replied, waiting for the woman to turn her attention to something else before looking at one of the computers' screen.

She had half an hour before her relatives got home. And, unfortunately, she had to reach the house first or Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon would punish her.

"I need to go," Harry told him with a frown, not feeling all that happy with having to leave, "Will you be here tomorrow?"

The man stared at her for a moment before he nodded.

Harry smiled, "Good! I'll see you tomorrow then."

Bidding him goodbye and waving at the old librarian who always treated her with kindness, Harry ran in direction of Number Four, Privet Drive. When she finally stopped in front of the house, Harry reached out for the spare key hidden under one of Aunt Petunia's ridiculous looking gnomes (Which she had only placed it there because the neighborhoods started doing the same), the young witch unlocked the door and walked inside.

She left the key over the kitchen table and ran upstairs. Harry still had sometime before her relatives got home which gave her the chance to take a quick bath.

Harry never stopped thinking about the blue-eyed man situation, not even as she laid on her bed later that night. Her mind was far too focused, constantly jumping from one idea to another, and it was impossible to go to sleep like this.

Just when she was starting to get frustrated with herself, one particular thought hit her. She gasped with pure delight, jumping from her bed and dashing toward Hedwig.

The snow owl had been sleeping, head buried under her wing, when Harry decided to pock her.

"Hedwig," The raven-haired girl whispered, pocking the owl once more, "Come on, Hedwig, I need help."

There was a moment of silence before the owl finally looked up, glaring at Harry with annoyed eyes.

"Deliver a letter for me? _Please_." Harry asked, nervously as the owl hooted angrily.

You know… Maybe she should have waited until tomorrow morning before asking this out of her familiar…

_If looks could kill_, Harry thought, trying to not show how uncomfortable she was as Hedwig stated her with large yellow eyes.

The owl let out a less annoyed hoot. Harry smiled only for it to turn into an grimace a second later upon seeing the expression on Hedwig's face.

"I… I haven't written the letter yet." She admitted, sheepishly.

If possible, her familiar _face palmed_.

* * *

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_I hope this letter finds you in good health and that you haven't been getting in too much trouble over the summer holidays._

_I'm sorry about not having replied to your letter early. My days have been busy between visiting my family and working as volunteer in St. Mungo's. Thus, my late reply._

_About your inquiries, as happy as I'm to hear about your new found interest in healing, I can't suggest any kind of Potion or Spell to help your friend with his problem. That would be far too risk for the human's mind is delicate and if you tried anything without the right training and experience, you could very well break your friend beyond repair._

_What I can do, however, is give you another alternative. One that will only require a visit to St. Mungo's (With your name and fame, they would treat anyone for you)._

_I have spoken to a friend of mine who's a Mind Healer and she agreed to check on your friend. She's one of the best in her field and if there's anyone who can help your friend recover his mind it's her._

_Your appointment is scheduled for July 5 at four in the afternoon. Don't be late._

_To get to St. Mungo's, I would suggest that you take the Knight Bus (To call for it, raise your wand up, much like how a Muggle would call for a taxi with their hands) but you can also use the Floo at the Leaky Cauldron. _

_Tell me how it goes and if Healer Summers was successful. If not then I'll give you a few other alternatives and we'll work on it together._

_Wishing you and your friend a good summer,_

_Poppy_

_PS. If you still find yourself interested in Healing before the new term start and wants to learn, tell me. I'll be more than happy to teach you._

Harry looked from one side of the street, checking if there was anyone around. Her relatives thought that she was going to the library and she didn't want one of their neighbors (Or at least one of Aunt Petunia's "friends") seeing her and her companion and telling the Dursleys.

Fortunately, aside from the two of them, the street was empty.

Nodding to herself, she folded Poppy's letter and turned to look at the tall, blue-eyed man standing next to her.

James, as she had taken to calling him in the last few weeks, arched his eyebrows in return. The small twelve years old pushed his arm, silently telling him to keep walking.

But he had grown a lot since the first day they spoke to each other. He still wasn't _fine _but he no longer looked as lost as before and he had started to make his own decisions and stopped to wait for instructions before doing anything. So, staring at her, he stayed still, refusing to budge.

Harry pouted.

She was seriously starting to miss the puppy who followed her around and never questioned her aside from making a few inquiries about certain things that confused him.

"Don't make that face, doll." James said with a tilt of his lips, "It won't work."

That was another thing that changed. Well, two things actually.

His voice, that used to sound like a miss of accents, had settled down to something more American. Brooklyn accent if the rare moments where he recalled a few flashes of his life were anything to be believed. And then there was his speech and some of his mannerisms when he wasn't acting like the clearly dangerous and traumatized man that he was – Who would have thought that her stalker could be such a charmer given the chance?

"But we need to go." She pleaded.

He wasn't even a little moved. Meany.

"You still need to explain _where_ we're going, Charis."

She looked into his ice-blue eyes which were always warm when directed at her. That look always made her blush, it reminded her of how Mr. Weasley or how the older Weasley brothers looked at Ginny.

Her heart dropped as she reminded herself that James only looked at her like that because she reminded him of his sister.

Shaking her head, Harry snapped herself out of her thoughts before she started to feel angry and jealously of a girl that she didn't even know.

"We're going to a place that will help you." The green-eyed witch said.

James kept staring, making sigh and drop her shoulders in defeat.

She was already taking a huge risk by taking him to a magical hospital. But part of her didn't want to have to explain her – Well, her _magic_ to him.

Harry didn't have the best experience with Muggles when it came to magic and the last thing she wanted was for _James _to fear her. For the last few weeks, she had grown fond of the man who now bore her father's name. He played board games with her and kept her safe from her cousin and his friends (Even if she still had to deal with Dudley when she was forced to return to Number Four at the end of the day).

He was like the mix of a father, brother and uncle that she never asked for but that she also didn't want to lose.

"I promise it'll be worth it." Harry clapped her hands together and bowed her head, "_Please_, trust me on this and let's go."

There was a moment of silence.

She could feel as he stared at her before she heard a sigh.

"Fine, doll. You win."

Raising her head, Harry cheered internally.

_Success! _She smiled, taking his gloved hand and pulling him with her and they walked down the street and headed to nearest bus stop.

She had thought of calling the Knight Bus like Poppy suggested in her letter but Harry was pretty sure that James wasn't ready to hide on that monstrosity yet. So, there they were, making their way to the Leaky Cauldron to use the Floo.

James followed her in silence, hand clutching hers tightly as they jumped out of the bus and walked through the crowded streets of London. His ice-blue eyes never stopped moving, scanning their surroundings and cataloguing any and all kind of threats that he saw. And if his other hand kept tapping the pocket where she knew he had hidden a knife there, Harry didn't say anything.

If being armed made him feel safe then it wasn't her who would protest to the weapon. After all, she kept one with her all the time.

"What I'm looking at?" James asked as they finally stopped in front of the Leaky Cauldron.

Harry paused as she gave him a curious look, wondering if he was seeing the real thing or if he was seeing the illusion over the building. She knew that he wasn't a wizard but maybe he did have enough magic to be classified as a Squib.

"What do you think you're looking at?" She asked, curiously.

He eyed her for a moment, "A shabby-looking pub."

Harry beamed at his answer

He could _see _it!

Part of her sighed in relief at this. Him being a Squib would make things so easier.

"Charis," James said, "_Why _I'm staring at a shabby-looking pub?" She opened her mouth to answer but he wasn't finished, "Actually, why do _you _know a place like this?" James scowled.

Harry looked bashful despite having no reason to, averting her eyes away from her companion and to the pub, taking into its familiar gothic appearance.

"I have connections." She said, pushing the dark door open.

James made a hissing sound that came out remarkably like a curse, "That wasn't what I wanted to hear."

The ice-blue eyed man was tense as he followed her inside. Harry was relieved to see that aside from the bartender, a old wizard smoking a long pipe in the corner and a small family of three eating a few tables away from him, there wasn't anyone else in Leaky Cauldron. The last thing she wanted was for a crowd to surround them just to shake her hand and causing James to have one of his episodes.

Tom the bartender looked up from the glass he was cleaning and smiled at her, "Ah, hello there, Aster."

Harry smiled back as she approached the bar. Tom usually her middle name when there were people in the pub; he knew that she hated the attention her name gave her.

"Hi, Tom." She said, "Can we use the Floo?"

The bald man's dark grey eyes moved to James for a second, "I don't see why not." Tom said, placing the glass aside and making a gesture with his hand, "Come in, I'll take you to the fireplace."

Harry smiled sweetly, ignoring James as he mouthed the word _fireplace _in confusion, "Thanks Tom!"

Tom nodded with enthusiasm, leading the two of then to a room on the back of the pub. The dark room was practically bare; there wasn't much there aside from a coffee table and the fireplace.

"Charis." James leaned closer to her so Tom won't hear him, "What's going on?"

It wasn't truly a question.

Harry blinked for a moment. She didn't think that he had ever, in all this time that they gotten to know each other, demanded anything from her.

"Our transport to the place that will help you...?" She replied slowly, grimacing a little at her words.

Maybe she should have called the Knight Bus… It looked more Muggle.

"Just – Just trust me." She pleaded, "I'll explain later."

The dark haired man hummed, nodding his head in acceptance. James observed as Tom took a small pot off the coffee table and peered inside when the bartender approached them.

"Here it's, Miss Potter." Tom announced.

Harry thanked him as she took a handful of glittering powder out of the pot and the pulled James with her as she stepped up to the fire. Her companion gave her a look but she didn't give him the chance to talk as she threw the powder into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned emerald green and rose higher than James, who stared.

The small green-eyed witch pushed the man into the fire with her. She looked into James' eyes.

"Close your eyes, keep your elbows tucked in and don't fidget," Harry instructed him, "Take a deep breath and try to stay calm."

As she spoke, her face scrunched more and more at every word that came out of her mouth.

_Merlin_, she really should have just called the Knight Bus. It was much more easier.

"Ok?" Harry asked.

There were several emotions reflected into those ice-blue eyes, some that she couldn't even recognize but James kept his mouth shut, nodding his head.

"Ok," She whispered, taking a deep, "St. Mungo's." Harry said firmly., not wanting to have a repeat of her last experience with the Floo.

Then, she felt the familiar feeling of being sucked down a giant drain. Different from last time though, the whole experience seemed much more quickly and before she knew it, someone's held her arm, stopping her from falling face forward onto the cold floor of St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries.

"What was that?" By the corner of her eyes, she saw James shaking his head, letting go of her arm to rub his eyes.

"Er – Magic?"

Ice-blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

The small twelve years old laughed nervously, "Surprise?"

He wasn't even a little amused.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 4. Of Names and Labels**

After using a fireplace as a method of transport, there was no need for Harry to try and convince James of the existence of magic.

Instead, while being subjected of his unamused look, the small girl took a deep and spoke about the things she did as a kid and how she learned about this new fantastical world as well anything else that Harry thought to be important (Keeping certain things out, after all – It wasn't the time to talk about Voldemort),

There was moment of silence after she finished her tale before James sighed fondly, running a hand through his wavy shoulder-length hair.

"You're clearly not telling me everything," She looked away at the tone of his voice. "But I'll wait. Just – Just explain things to me _before_ dragging me into the literal fire."

Harry blushed, smiling a little sheepishly.

"You're taking this rather well," She pointed out shyly.

The tall dark haired man snorted but he didn't reply. Instead, James glanced around the crowded reception area. His eyebrows arched a little which made her think that he was surprised with how normal the whole place looked. Aside from the rows of oddly dressed witches and wizards sitting upon rickety wooden chairs and some magical items here and there, the reception of the Hospital resembled a Muggle one – Well, a more old version of Muggle Hospitals' receptions area that's it.

"How're they going to help me?" He asked after a moment of silence.

Harry shifted her weight from one foot to another, "I don't really know. You need to see the Mind Healer first…"

James took a _deep _breath, jaw set.

"_Mind _Healer…?"

Her eyes widened with alarm as his voice lost any kind of emotion and his face started resembling a marble statue.

How stupid and insensitive was she?!

James hadn't said much about some of the memories that he had recovered little by little ever since the two of them started meeting up in the library. But there were times that he didn't even know what he was doing or where he was that showed an very ugly picture to Harry regarding his missing memories.

Torture, brainwashing, shock chair…

The twelve years old tried to be as supportive as she could, to just be there for him, but some of the things she learned was enough to give her nightmares. So why, after all of this, hadn't she thought that James won't like the sound of a _Mind_ Healer? He had every right to be suspicious of someone with magic who was trained to enter another's mind.

"Wait," She shook her hands quickly, "Is not what you're thinking – Mind Healers are like psychiatrists, psychologists and neurosurgeons! They, they don't mess with people head or anything. They _can't _do that really." There was an oath that stopped them from doing anything _immoral _with their abilities, "And –"

The ice-blue eyed man sighed, placing a hand over her head and cutting her rant off.

A little shy, Harry looked up to see him staring at her with those fondness filled eyes that away made her warm inside. James' lips twitched up.

"It's ok, doll. I get it." He patted her head before drawing his gloved hand back, "Now, where do we go?"

Noticing that he wanted her to think of something that wasn't his problems, Harry's straightened her back and looked around.

"We need information…" She muttered.

Her eyes landed on a corner of the reception area where a pretty blonde witch was seated at a desk marked _Enquiries_. The wall behind her was covered in notices and posters saying things like: _A CLEAN CAULDRON KEEPS POTIONS FROM BECOMING POISONS_ and _ANTIDOTES ARE ANTI-DON'TS UNLESS APPROVED BY A QUALIFIED HEALER_.

A little bit to the right side of the blonde witch's desk, there was also a large sign that read:

**FLOOR GUIDE**

**ARTEFACT ACCIDENTS... Ground Floor**

_Cauldron explosion, wand backfiring, broom crashes, etc._

**CREATURE-INDUCED INJURIES... First Floor **

_Bites, stings, burns, embedded spines, etc. _

**MAGICAL BUGS... Second Floor**

_Contagious maladies, e.g. dragon pox, vanishing sickness, scrofungulus, etc._

**POTION AND PLANT POISONING... Third Floor **

_Rashes, regurgitation, uncontrollable giggling, etc._

**NON-MAGICAL INJURIES... Fourth Floor**

_Broken bones, twisted ankles, head injuries, etc._

**SPELL DAMAGE... Fifth Floor **

_Unliftable jinxes, hexes, incorrectly applied charms, etc._

**VISITORS' TEAROOM / HOSPITAL SHOP... Sixth Floor **

**IF YOU ARE UNSURE WHERE TO GO, INCAPABLE OF NORMAL SPEECH OR UNABLE TO REMEMBER WHY YOU ARE HERE, OUR WELCOMEWITCH WILL BE PLEASED TO HELP.**

She stared at the floor guide for a moment. Making her decision, Harry grabbed James' hand and the two walked in direction of the witch.

"Good Afternoon." Harry said politely.

The witch didn't reply, instead, she turned at James and did something weird with her eyes, "Hello, sir." The blonde purred, causing Harry to scrunch her face, "How can I help you?"

James arched his eyebrow.

Harry let out a fake cough. The small girl frowned as the blonde witch gave her an disinterested look and instead stared at James with the same smile Harry saw on some of the Sixth and Seventh Years when they interacted with Lockhart last year.

The raven haired girl resisted the urge of stomping her foot. That was _her_ (Father, brother, uncle – _family_) friend, the woman could find her own. Harry had gotten to him first and she was keeping him now.

"_Excuse me_." Harry puffed her cheeks, ignoring the amused glint in James' ice-blue eyes. "We have an appointment with Healer Summers."

The witch, who definitely wasn't as helpful as the lying floor guide made her to be, turned to glare at Harry. The small witch glared back.

James leaned against the desk, crossing his arms as he tried to keep himself from grinning.

"_So?_" Harry demanded as politely as she could.

The witch's nostrils flared but she still replied, gritting her teeth as she did so, "Fourth Floor, Room 407."

"Thank you." The Gryffindor girl said, nodding her head before dragging James in direction of the double doors leading to long narrow corridor lined with more portraits of famous Healers and lit by crystal bubbles full of candles that floated up on the ceiling, looking like giant soapsuds.

"The little kitten has claws." James cooed behind her.

Harry blushed, looking down at her feet.

"S-Shut up."

He laughed. Harry didn't think she had ever heard him laugh like that. It was a nice…

"Were you jealous, doll?"

"I was not!"

…James wasn't though. He wasn't even a little bit nice. He was mean and should stop teasing her just for his own amusement.

* * *

Harry stared down at her cup of tea, sighing as she rested her chin against the palm of her hand.

Bored…

_So_ bored…

_I should have brought a book_, she thought, scanning the tearoom in search of something, _anything_, that could keep her mind occupied while she waited for James to be done with his appointment (The Healer had wanted to speak with James alone).

Finding only one other visitor sitting a few tables away from her own, Harry sighed, deciding to play with her napkin for a while. It was better than doing nothing.

"…Harry?"

The green-eyed girl's head whipped around to see a formidable if not severe-looking old witch wearing a long green dress, a moth-eaten fox fur and a pointed hat decorated with what was unmistakably a stuffed _vulture_. And, trailing behind the woman was a familiar chubby blonde haired boy who looked thoroughly depressed of not worried.

"Neville!" Harry blinked, standing up.

Her friend gave her a small smile as he came to a halt a few steps away from her. She eyed her fellow Gryffindor; he looked a little tense. Then again… Her eyes traveled to the old witch standing beside him.

"Hello, Mrs. Longbottom." Harry greeted the woman politely, offering one of her hands, "I'm Charis Potter."

The woman, who Harry knew to be Neville's Grandmother, shook her hand, "Augusta Longbottom." She said graciously, "You look like a mix of your mother and grandmother…" The older witch tilted her head, as if recalling something, "I _despised_ that woman."

At those blunt words, Neville looked as though he would rather be anywhere in the world but there. A flush creeped up his face and he stared at Harry with wide and apologetic eyes.

Harry, on other hand, blinked.

She hadn't expected this. She had never been compared to her mother or grandmother like this; people always said that she was a female version of her father.

Mrs. Longbottom continued without a pause, "I never forgave Dorea for destroying my favorite dress when we were children," She said, lips twitching up and showing that she was actually joking. Or so Harry thought. It was difficult to know when the woman's expression barely changed.

If the surprised look on Neville's face was anything to go by, then Harry wasn't too far off the mark.

"You – You really think I look like my Grandmother, mam?" Harry couldn't help but ask.

Mrs. Longbottom nodded, eyes a little less stern and more soft. Although it felt strange to use such word to describe anything belonging to this old witch.

"Is very subtle but you do." Mrs. Longbottom said, "You have her hair color, chin and cheekbones. The rest is all your mother's."

The green-eyed girl beamed at the information.

"Harry," Neville flinched when his Grandmother also turned to look at him after he spoke. "W-Why are you here? Did someone you know get hurt?"

The small girl thought about it for a moment before replying, "My –" _Brother? Father? Uncle? _She really needed to decide for once and for all what label to use when thinking about James, "– friend is having a few memory issues so I brought him to see a Mind Healer."

_Memory issues_, she thought dryly, _Hah! That's a understatement._

"Oh," Her friend said quietly, "I hope he'll recover."

"I'm sure he'll." Harry smiled gently before her face twisted with worry, "And you? Are you here for a family member?"

At her question, Mrs. Longbottom stared at her grandson with pursued lips. Harry immediately regretted opening her mouth when her friend paled at the look the old witch was giving him.

"You didn't tell your friend?" Mrs. Longbottom practically sneered, "Are you that ashamed of them?"

The blonde haired boy looked horrified, paling until he looked like he was dealing with Snape.

Mrs. Longbottom wasn't finished and continued, angrily, "Are you?! It's nothing to be ashamed of! You should be proud, Neville, _proud_! They didn't give up their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them!"

Harry's eyes widened, partly in shook of what she had just learned and partly in disbelief at the way the older witch was talking to her only grandchild.

She clenched her fists as Neville flinched as if someone had hit him.

"No!" Her friend practically yelled, "I would never be ashamed of them! I just –" Neville's hands started shaking, "I –"

Before she could stop herself or even think of what she was doing, the raven haired girl spoke;

"We haven't been friends for long you see," She said quickly, trying to defend her baby-blue eyed friend, "so there are certain things that have been left unsaid."

Mrs. Longbottom stared into her nervous but defiant eyes before nodding her head regally and muttering something under her breath.

"I see, well," The old woman said out loud, looking down her rather bony nose at Neville and then back at her, "We're here for my son and daughter-in-law."

Harry opened and closed her mouth, stopping herself from saying anything that could get Neville in trouble or make him sad.

"They're staying in the fifth floor." The old woman informed her.

_Spell Damage_, her mind supplied. Harry opened her mouth to try and stop the old woman, both because she didn't want to know what could have possibly taken her friend's parents from him and because she could see Neville looked as he realized what his Grandmother was going to say next.

"Mrs. Longbot –"

The older witch cut her off.

"My son and his wife," She said, "were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who's followers."

Harry felt like her head was spinning and, for a moment, she stopped breathing. Her ears started ringing.

The whole situation was far too similar to James' for her liking and she could understand why Neville wouldn't have told anyone about it (Not that it was any of their business to begin with).

"They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the wizarding community." Mrs Longbottom went on, "Highly gifted, the pair of them. Actually, they worked with your father."

"Oh." Was all Harry managed to say.

Licking her now dry lips, Harry forced a polite smile on her face as she tried to think of something to say. Fortunately, the twelve years old was saved from having to do so when a familiar voice called her name with a mix of curiosity and caution.

"Charis?"

Turning around, Harry saw James standing next to middle-aged looking witch dressed in lime-green robes with an emblem embroidered on her chest: a wand and bone, crossed. It was his Mind Healer, Alia Summers.

"James!" Harry exclaimed in relief. With a more sincere smile, and utterly thankful for his timely arrival, she turned toward to the other magicals in the room. "Mrs. Longbottom, Neville, this is James –"

The man interrupted her bowing slightly and smiling with pure charm despite how tense his muscles were, "James Barnes. A pleasure to meet you two."

Harry stared, not understanding where the surname had come from.

Mrs. Longbottom blinked, taken aback when James took her shriveled, claw-like hand and kissing it like a gentleman from one of those soap operas Aunt Petunia watched. Healer Summers looked amused at the whole thing while Neville looked like he was ready to faint, especially after he noticed the blush on his Grandmother's cheeks.

"Ah, yes," Mrs. Longbottom said, almost shyly, "you must be the friend Miss Potter was waiting for."

"Indeed," James said, eyes flicking toward Neville, "And _you _must be her pen-pal. Charis has told me about you."

Lost of words, Neville nodded. Although, Harry was rather confused when her usually shy friend made a pause and narrowed his eyes slightly at James with something akin to suspicion.

"Neville." Mrs. Longbottom snapped when her grandson didn't say anything.

Neville pressed his lips together in a tense smile, "Good Afternoon, Mr. Barnes. It's a pleasure to meet you."

James's lips twitched up with amusement.

"I'm sure it's." He said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat and looking relaxed.

That just made Neville look unhappier and cause Harry to get even more confused.

Healer Summers chuckled, "I hate to interrupt but I need to speak with Miss Potter about my patient."

Mrs. Longbottom blinked once, "Oh, I understand, we'll be leaving you then." She said, drawing on long green gloves. "It was a pleasure to meet you – Come Neville."

Harry's blonde haired friend hesitated to follow, still staring at James with narrowed eyes. It wasn't until Mrs. Longbottom called him out that he moved.

"See you, Neville." Harry said after him, waving her hand.

None of them spoke as the two Longbottoms left the tea room and headed to the corridor leading to the Hospital Shop.

"Nice kid," James commented, "Very insightful."

Harry gave him a look but he didn't bother to explain what he meant. Not that he could as Healer Summers decided to speak.

"Why don't you two take a seat, Miss Potter?" She made a motion to the table Harry had been using, "I'll be getting ourselves something to eat so we can talk about Mr. Barnes treatment."

Harry nodded as the Healer walked away from them, immediately forgetting Neville's odd behavior. Right now, James's treatment was more important.

There was one thing though…

"Mr. Barnes?" The twelve years old questioned the dark haired man.

He smirked.

"Ah, yes – Madam Summers has already been a great help," James bowed, placing a hand over his heart, "Allow me to introduce myself; James Buchanan Barnes at your service."

"You remember your name!" She gasped, beaming as she threw herself into his arms. James laughed, catching her without a second thought and burying his face into her hair. "Congratulations!"

Harry grinned widely. She was so happy to know that he had his name back. It was just a sign that, in time, he would be able to recover everything else that had been taken from him.

"It's a good name don't you think?" He asked, repeating the words she used after gifting her father's name to him a few weeks prior, "Only great men are named James."

The green-eyed witch nodded rapidly as she let go of him, looking up to see ice-blue eyes staring at her fondly.

"I'm glad that you have your name – your _full_ name back." She said softly.

James smiled gently, cupping her face with his gloved hands, "The name is nice and all, but _I'm _glad to have you with me. Thank you for not giving up on this mess of a man, Charis."

The twelve years old blinked, taken aback. Blushing and feeling a little shy, she took a deep breath and tried to ignore the way her eyes were burning and how her heart was practically trying to jump out of her chest at that moment.

"You're family." She admitted, _finally_ choosing the best way to describe him, "You don't give up on family."

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 5. Happy Birthday, Doll**

Sitting beside James, Harry watched as Healer Summers took a long and calm breath. The older witch then placed a folder over the table, opening it with a wave of her hand and taking a hawk-feather quill from the sleeve of her robes.

"Alright," The woman sounded a little wary, "First off, until Mr. Barnes says that you're allowed to know what we've been learning through our sessions together, I _can't _give you any details, Miss Potter." Harry nodded, which caused the Healer to look more relaxed. "You have no idea of how persistent some wizards are when they want to know about what memories a patient recovered."

Harry resisted the urge of patting the woman's hand with sympathy. The twelve years old could imagine just how persistent they were. The majority of Magicals, at least the British ones, were very noisy and had no notion of the meaning of privacy.

Healer Summers cleared her throat and continued.

"I'm sure Mr. Barnes will tell you about his memories when he's ready."

Green eyes flicked toward James. The man's face spoke volumes about when he would be doing that and, to be honest, Harry agreed with him. She didn't want to know, not now at least. Maybe in several years when she was older.

"Now," Healer Summers said, "I want to say that with the treatment, Mr. Barnes will be fine. It'll take time some time for us to go through and unlock all his memories and go through it before organizing his mindscape but if today session was anything to go by, then we won't have many problems doing that." The witch took a slip of her tea, "The only thing that will give me any kind of problem are the shadows in his mind."

Harry frowned a little thinking about the term before she recalled one lesson with Professor Flitwick which he had mentioned it.

"Compulsions…?" She asked slowly.

Healer Summers nodded, "An entire web of subtle compulsions to be more precise." The small girl's confusion must have been apparent because the older witch explained, "A normal compulsion is easy to detect of you know what to look for and there's a stronger version of _Finite _that will dispel it. _Subtle _compulsions, on other hand, are so integrated in a person's mind that to detect it you need to do an extensive battery of tests and to destroy it you need to use both mind magic and certain Potions."

There was a pause as the older witch took a deep breath.

"Mr. Barnes has so many subtle compulsions in his mind that I immediately noticed it, which is worrying." Healer Summers finished her tea and looked down at the file across her and made a few notes, "I'll need to call a few colleagues to help. If we work together we'll be able to break the entire web without accidentally activating one of the compulsions by accident."

"I don't understand." Harry muttered softly.

James placed a comforting hand over her head as he spoke, "Think like that; every compulsion is connected to one another, creating a web." At Harry's nod and he went on, "Because of this connection, many compulsions are actually a failsafe to another."

The small girl thought about it for a moment.

"So," She said, "If Healer Summers destroyed a compulsion that forced you to go right, then it would just activate another compulsion that would –" Harry paused, not knowing how to continue.

Healer Summers did though.

"From the nature of the majority of the compulsions, that would cause him to get rid of whatever – or whoever – stopped him from going right. He would only continue _after_ the obstacle was no longer a problem."

Harry licked her lips, "Oh…"

Gloved hands patted her head gently while Healer Summers gave her a sad look before she continued talking.

"From my scans, those compulsions weren't created by the –" The woman grimaced. They what she meant, even if she didn't use the word _torture _out loud. "They weren't created by Muggle means. At least not in recent years." She scowled at the file, "From my scans, it's almost magical in nature but not. This is another thing I'll have to talk to my colleagues over; we need to identify how the compulsions were created if we want to destroy them and to be able to access the memories that were locked deeply in Mr. Barnes' mind."

Healer Summers took a sheet of parchment and handed it to Harry who took it with care, as if it was something frail. Looking down at the parchment, Harry found a small list of Potions that she had never heard about as well instructions of how and when to take them.

"Here is the prescription of the Potions I want Mr. Barnes to take. Show this at the Apothecary in Diagon Alley and they'll sell you the Potions." The older witch said, "I want to speak to Mr. Barnes every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday." She made a note in another sheet of parchment and handed it to James, "I wrote down instructions of how you can reach the Hospital in case Miss Potter can't come with you."

"Yes, mam." James nodded, folding the parchment and placing it inside the pocket of his coat.

Healer Summers stood, being followed by Harry and James. The witch looked at her patient.

"About your question from early, I would suggest that you visit the Goblins." She smiled a little, "Who knows. Blood calls for blood, so your theory has merit."

"I'll do that," James gave her a small thankful smile.

Harry looked at the two of them, blinking in confusion. She didn't ask what this was about though. It must have been related to one of the memories he had recovered that day.

"I'll be going then." Healer Summers said, shaking their hands. "It was a pleasure to meet you two."

"You too, ma'am." James said.

Harry smiled widely, "Thank you for everything."

The Healer looked at her with a smile, "It's my job, dear. I'll see you on Tuesday, Mr. Barnes. Same time as today."

With that, Healer Summers gathered her things and bid them goodbye, leaving the tearoom with a small wave thrown over her shoulder.

There was a moment of silence between them as Harry stared down at the prescription and then looked at the old wrist watch she was wearing.

"There's time for us to go get your Potions." She said, "My relatives won't get home until ten."

The Dursley had gone to a party one of Vernon's coworkers was throwing that day to celebrate their newest promotion. So Harry didn't need to worry about her relatives wondering where she was all day and if she was in contact with _her kind_.

If only they knew, Harry thought with amusement, they would have had a hissing fit.

"I do hope that, to get to this Apothecary," Her companion stated dryly, "we won't be walking into the fire again."

Harry let out a nervous giggle, "I-I think we should just take the boring non-magical bus."

She would have suggested to the Knight Bus but Harry wanted to give James a break from magical ways of transport before he had to deal with it.

"Good." James nodded with a tilt of his lips.

As they walked out of the tearoom, James asked her where he could find the Goblins.

"Oh, uh, they work at Gringotts." She explained, "It's the magical bank." Harry paused, far too curious now to hold back her curiosity. "Why?"

"Nothing much," James said, nonchalantly, "I just want to confirm something."

The raven haired girl pouted as he ignored her not so subtle attempts of learning what this theory was. Admitting defeat a few minutes later, the green-eyed girl decided to wait.

He would tell her later.

"Maybe." James said with amusement, as if reading her mind.

Harry shot him a look but the ice-blue eyed man, being as mean as he was, laughed at the expression on her face.

* * *

Stepping inside the Leaky Cauldron for the second time that day, Harry threw a wave in Tom's direction as she led James through the bar and out into a small, walled courtyard.

The ice-blue eyed man arched his eyebrows with interest as she stepped in front of a brick wall and started to tap it with her wand; three up and two across.

"I can't wait to show you the alley!" Harry beamed, clutching James's Potions prescription against her chest as the last brick she touched quivered and wriggled and a small hole appeared, growing wider and wider until the two of them were now facing an archway leading to a cobbled street that twisted and turned out of sight instead of a simple brick wall.

James blinked.

Clearly, he hadn't expected to see such thing.

"Magic," He sighed after a second, shaking his head.

Harry stared at him, "Really?" The twelve years old gave the man a look, "That's it? No awe, no gawking? Just – Just _magic_?!" She copied his sigh exaggeratedly.

James smirked down at the small witch, "Don't pout, doll. It's upcoming."

The raven haired girl huffed, stepping through the archway and ignoring James as he chuckled at her. She for gave him soon after though because Harry didn't take long to point out the shops that she visited when buying her school supplies ("I brought my wand right there, see?") or any other place that she had always found to be interesting ("I get my shampoo from there. We'll get you some." "What's wrong with my hair?!").

"Where's the bank?" Her ice-blue eyed companion asked after she pointed out the Apothecary were they would be buying his Potions.

"Oh, right there." The small girl pointed to a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops at the far end of the street. Then she looked at him, "Do you want to go there first?"

"I'll go," James said, gloved hands inside the pockets of his coat, "You wait for me at the Apothecary."

Harry opened her mouth to argue and say that should stay together but decided against it. No matter how curious she was to know about what kind of business he had with the Goblins, the witch knew that it wasn't anything of her business.

"Ok," Harry muttered, opening her old messenger bag to reach out for her money pouch, "Do you think you'll need some money…?"

She never had the chance to even touch the pouch as James grabbed her arm and shook his head.

"I'll pay if they ask for it." He said firmly but no less kindly, "They exchange normal money to magical money don't they?"

The green-eyed girl nodded after a moment.

"I'll be fine then," James's lips pulled up into a small smile and, with that, he patted her head and started walking in direction of Gringotts.

Harry waited until he disappeared from view before making her way to the Apothecary.

Immediately as she stepped inside the shop, her nose wrinkled at the horrible smell of bad eggs and rotted cabbages. She avoided the barrels of slugs and walked past the shelves filled with jars of herbs, dried roots, and bright powders, only stopping as she reached the counter.

The tall young wizard behind it, a brown haired man that looked like he had just graduated from Hogwarts if the Ravenclaw robes over his clothes was any indication, turned his attention away from a jaw of mountain lion claws and smiled at her.

"Welcome!" He said, "How can I help you?"

Instead of replying, Harry handed the prescription to him. The brown haired wizard scanned the parchment quickly before handing it back to her with a nod.

"One moment, I'll be right back." He assured her then walked through a door behind him.

While she waited, Harry found herself examining some of the potions ingredients on display, noticing that there were some new additions from the last time she visited the shop.

The small girl frowned, tapping her bottom lip as she wondered if she buy a few things for the new school year but decided against it. After all, she would have to come back to the Alley later to get her school supplies anyway.

"Here it's!" She turned around to see the young man placing three Potions vials over the counter. "Headache Diminishing Potion," He tapped the vial of ocean blue potion, "Gudson's Elixir, which is used to weaken compulsions and strength the natural mental shields everyone has," The tapped a vial with glittering orange potion, "Morpheus' Dreams, which makes it so someone will watch instead of being forced to go through their dreams or relieve their memories. It's only used when someone is being treated by a Mind Healer… The treatment can bring forward some unwanted dreams and it is recommended to not use the Dreamless Potion in this case." The former Ravenclaw explained as he tapped a vial which the potion resembled a starry sky, "And last, we have a Calming Draught. Your total will be of 103 Galleons, 12 Sickles and 5 Knuts."

Harry reached out for her money pouch as he started packing the potions. Mentally, she grimaced; there goes all her money – Well, it was for a good cause. Family was more important than money.

"Thank you for your patronage!" The young wizard smiled as he handed her the brown package.

Harry smiled politely, "Thank you for your services."

With that, Harry carefully placed the package inside her messenger bag and left the shop so she could wait for James outside.

Humming to herself, she watched as several wizards and witches walked up and down the street, some of stopping to talk to acquaintances while others seemed to be in hurry, barely looking where they were going.

Harry blinked when someone tapped her shoulder, looking away from a couple that was trying to decide what to get for their son's birthday and turning her head to the right.

"James!" She beamed.

"Ready to go?" The long haired man asked.

Harry nodded, eyes flicking at what looked to be a package in his arms. She didn't say anything about it though, nor did she question him about it.

"Sure!" Harry smiled, skipping beside him as they walked back to Surrey.

* * *

Harry hummed as she leaned on the sill of her open window. There was only a few more minutes until her birthday and she was waiting for Hedwig, who had been suspiciously absent for two nights now, as well James who had promised her that would be coming to see her.

She scanned the front yard for a moment before her emerald-green eyes flicked up to the bright starry sky. There was no sign of James or Hedwig.

With a sigh, she looked down at her wrist watch.

Harry knew that she was being a bit childish and impatient but she couldn't help it. For the first time in her life, she was looking forward to her birthday. She wanted to celebrate it with the only family she had.

Absently-minded, she gazed over the rooftops of the neighbors' houses, blinking when she noticed a silhouette against the golden moon that grew larger and large at every second that passed.

The now thirteen years old perked up. Was that – It was! Harry smiled; Hedwig was back! And, she leaned forward a little and narrowed her eyes, the snowy owl wasn't alone.

The green-eyed girl stepped aside as three owls soared through the window and landed on her bed. Harry approached the owls with confusion – She didn't know those two owls with Hedwig so why were they with her familiar?

Hedwig, Harry noticed as she dashed toward the owls to free them from their burdens, looked extremely pleased with herself. The yellow-eyed owl gave the small witch an affectionate nip with her beak as the raven haired girl removed the package tied to her leg and then flew across the room in direction of her empty cage.

The second owl was a regal eagle owl that placed a wing over its chest as if bowing to her after she took the forest green package from its leg. And, the third owl, a handsome tawny one, was not only carrying a third package but also a Hogwarts' letter. When Harry relieved the third owl owl of its burden, it ruffled its feathers importantly, stretched its wings, and took off through the window into the night instead of joining the second owl and Hedwig in sharing a meal inside the latter's previously empty cage.

Sitting down on her bed, Harry grabbed the forest green package and ripped off the paper to find a small velvet box. She stared at it before opening the box to find a silver bracelet with four charms attached to it; one owl that looked like Hedwig, a miniature Hogwarts, a witch traditional hat and a Snitch.

Fingers trembling slightly, she touched the bracelet with care. Harry didn't think that she had ever touched something so delicate and expensive-looking in her entire life.

Why had someone sent this to her?

She blinked, feeling a little dazed as this question was followed by the realization that this was actually a birthday present. Aside from Hedwig, Harry had never received a birthday present – Much less one like this!

Placing the box aside carefully, the green-eyed girl picked up the letter and unfolded it. It was from Neville.

_Dear Harry, _

_Happy birthday! _

_Thank you for the homemade scarf and the books about Muggle plants and their uses. I hope you liked my present as much as I liked yours. I didn't know what to give to you so I asked one of my female cousins for pointers._

_The bracelet is charmed to warm up when someone is trying to use Legimancy on you or when you're near food and objects that had either been tempered with or cursed._

Harry sent a wide eyed look at the box.

_That's really useful. _She grimaced a little before adding, _And really thoughtful_.

Compared to his present, hers was pretty plain. No matter how long it had taken her to learn to knit a descent looking scarf or to find those books that she had gotten for him.

Next year, she promised herself, Harry would give Neville something better. Actually, maybe she should already start thinking on what type of Christmas present she would be getting for him.

Nodding to herself, she turned her attention back to the letter.

_Anyway, do you know when you'll be going to Diagon Alley? We could meet up…? Just tell me the day and I'll speak to my Gran about it._

_Your friend,_

_Neville._

There was an _PS._ at the end of the letter but Neville had drawn a flower over it so Harry couldn't read it. She would ask him about it next time she wrote to him.

Smiling fondly, Harry placed Neville's letter aside and picked up the other package. She immediately recognized the untidy scrawl on the brown paper at once; it was from Hagrid.

Harry twitched.

The Half-Giant had a heart of gold and she liked him. But Harry knew better than to trust something coming from him.

As nice and loveable as he was, Hagrid's views of what was safe and what was dangerous was more screwed up than others wizards' and witches'. Point in case: He tried to raise an _dragon _inside his _wooden hut_.

So, honestly, no one could blame her for hesitating to open the present he sent to her.

Gulping, Harry tore offthe top layer of paper and glimpsed something green and leathery, but before she could unwrap it properly, the package gave a strange quiver, and whatever was inside it snapped loudly – Harry threw it on the floor, holding back the urge of screaming (She couldn't scream. At least not if she didn't want her relatives to kill her).

Staring at it, Harry flinched as the package snapped loudly again and started shaking and twisting until the rest of the paper fell off to reveal a –

Harry's face twisted.

It was a _book_.

The now thirteen years old barely had time to register its handsome green cover, emblazoned with the golden title _The Monster Book of Monsters_, before it flipped onto its edge and started moving around the bed as if it was a shark.

Throwing her body back until she was curled at the end of her bed, with her back trying to merge with the grey wall of her room, Harry paled as she mentally screamed when the book actually _jumped_ over bed, snarling and growling as it approached her. Without thinking, Harry blindly reached out for the lamp on her bedside table, gripped it firmly in one hand, and raised it over her head, ready to strike.

_I swear that if I'm eaten by this book, _she narrowed her eyes, growling mentally, _then I'll be coming back to haunt Hagrid!_

Harry waited for a attack that never happened. It she took her some time to process what happened – One moment her emerald-green eyes blinked and, in the next moment, the book had, somehow, been thrown out of her bed and was now laying motionless and lifeless on the floor.

Lowering the lamp and carefully placing it back on her bedside table, Harry raised her head a little, noticing a small wound on the green cover that looked remarkably like a –

Harry blinked once more.

Wait was that a _bullet wound_?

"What the fuck is that thing?" Harry's head snapped to the side to see James standing on the corner of her room, in front of the window he had used to enter it, and holding a gun out.

"How didn't it make a single sound?" Was the first thing that came out of her mouth.

Shouldn't guns be loud?

James gave her a _look_, "I use silencers." He said as if talking about the weather, "Now, Charis, answer the fucking question."

Harry winced a little.

James never cursed in English in her present if he could avoid it. The ice-blue eyed man only did that when he was really upset about something.

"…a birthday present?" Harry said quickly, looking anywhere but him, "A friend sent it to me." She added after a pause, grimacing soon after that as James's face twisted ugly.

Maybe… Maybe she shouldn't have said that…

"A friend, you say." James sneered, "What kind of _friend _send a murder book as a birthday present?"

_Hagrid does_, she thought, _Knowing him, he must have thought it was cute._

The small witch didn't voice her thoughts, of course. James looked like he was ready to put a bullet through someone's head and she didn't want this someone to be Hagrid.

The big guy was strong and all, but Harry was pretty sure that in a fight between the two of them, _James _would walk away victorious.

"Er –" Harry tried to think of anything to distract the furious man, "…Did _you _bring me a present?"

The long haired man pursued his lips, narrowing his eyes.

Ok, then. That didn't work.

Plan B it is then: Show off her more normal gift a little.

"Look," Harry said, grabbing the bracelet Neville sent to her from its box, "isn't it pretty? Neville sent it to me! It's the second birthday present someone ever gave me, you know!" She babbled.

And, just like that, James sighed. His fury abated and his posture relaxed, if only a little bit. Harry clutched the bracelet against her chest when she saw the sad glint in James's eyes.

She – She hadn't wanted to make him sad! _Why_ was he sad?!

"It's very pretty, doll." James agreed, placing the bag he was holding next to her bed and returning his gun to its hidden place under his ever present coat. "Kid has a good eye for gifts."

Harry gave him a small shaky smile and moved to sit beside the ice-blue eyed man as he sat down on the edge of her bed.

"What more do you have there?" He asked, looking at the at the card that had come with the murder book and the letter from Hogwarts.

"Oh," Harry said as she reached out to grab the card and the letter, "I almost forgot about it."

_Dear Harry, _

_Happy Birthday! _

_Think you might find this useful for next year. Won't say no more here. Tell you when I see you. _

_Hope the Muggles are treating you right. _

_All the best, _

_Hagrid _

That was rather ominous... Why would Hagrid think that the murder book would useful?

She stared at her hands as James took the card from her, far too lost in her own thoughts to protest.

_Wait_, Harry paled as realization struck her, _don't tell me we're going to use this book in Care of Magical Creatures?_

Was the teacher related to Hagrid somehow? Only the Half-Giant would think that using such book was a good idea.

Harry rubbed her face with a groan.

What was the problem with using the good, old and normal _Fantastic_ _Beasts and Where to Find Them_?

_That_ book didn't good around trying to bite people.

"Is this the friend who sent you the book?" James asked, calmly.

Far _too _calmly.

Harry ignored his question, acting like she didn't hear him and instead grabbed the letter from Hogwarts.

It was rather thicker than usual, Harry noticed as she opened the envelope. Pulling out the first page of parchment within, she read:

_Dear Miss Potter, _

_Please note that the new school year will begin on September the first. The Hogwarts Express will leave from King's Cross station, platform nine and three-quarters, at eleven o'clock. _

_Third years are permitted to visit the village of Hogsmeade on certain weekends. Please give the enclosed permission form to your parent or guardian to sign. _

_A list of books for next year is enclosed. _

_Yours sincerely, _

_Professor M. McGonagall _

_Deputy Headmistress _

Harry pulled out the Hogsmeade permission form and looked at it, feeling a little down.

It would be wonderful to visit Hogsmeade on weekends. It an entirely wizarding village and she had been wanting to visit ever since she first heard about it. But wasn't going to happen because Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia would never sign the form.

She sighed sadly, unconsciously handing both the form and the parchment to James, who looked down at it with an thoughtful expression on his face, and turned her attention to her book list.

**COURSE BOOKS**

_The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 3_** by **_Miranda Goshawk_

_Intermediate Transfiguration _**by **_Emeric Switch_

_The Monster Book of Monsters _**by**_ Edwardus Lima_

_Numerology and Grammatica_** by **_Lawrence Wakefield _**and**_ Miguel Carneiro_

_Spellman's Syllabary _**by **_Rosanna Amorim_

_Rune Dictionary _**by **_Demetri Alexopoulos_

_Ancient Runes Made Easy _**by **_Lorenzo D'Ivoire_

_The Essential Defence Against the Dark Arts _**by **_Arsenius Jigger_

"Hum," James leaned to the side to see the list. She was so focused on said list that she never noticed how he slipped the Hogsmeade form inside the pocket of his coat, "Shouldn't there be more books?"

Blinking, Harry looked at him.

"For Potions, Herbology and Astronomy we'll use the same books we have been using so far." She explained, "They only ask for new books after this year."

The man nodded before he moved to grab something from his bag and then placed it on her lap. Harry blinked once more and she stared at the rectangular object wrapped in red and gold paper.

"What's that?" She asked, looking at it over as if she could guess what was under the paper.

James hummed while he leaned back against her bed, hands behind his head as he closed his eyes. His lips twitched up.

"Your birthday present." He said.

Harry was so shocked that she almost dropped the present in her hands, "_Really?_"

She had been joking early when she questioned him about her present. Harry hadn't expected him to get her anything. The fact that he agreed to stay with her on her birthday and play a few games was enough to her.

He opened eyes, smiling softly, "Really, really."

"You didn't need to." She muttered, biting her bottom lip and trying not to cry.

"I wanted to, doll. Now, open it." His smile turned a little mischievous if not smug, "It's the confirmation of my theory."

"That's what you got from the Goblins?" She asked surprised, recalling the package he had with him when they visited Diagon Alley a few weeks ago.

James let out a hum. That was all conformation she needed. Excited, Harry ripped off the paper and blinked when she found herself staring at what looked to be an framed family tapestry.

On the top, it read _The Barnes Family_. Harry stared at it in confusion, wondering why he was giving a framed copy of his family tapestry to her, but she didn't put the frame down and kept reading instead.

James was descendant of Squibs from two American Wizarding Families that the green-eyed girl had read about in one of the books at the Hogwarts Library; the Graves Family and the Minus Family were very important in the history of the Magical America Society. There hadn't been anyone magical in his family although his little sister, Rebecca, had been a Hedge witch.

"How do you know?" He asked her when she pointed this out.

"In magical tapestries, Muggles' names appears in black, Squibs' names appears in silver, Hedge Wizards' names as bronze and Wizards' names appears in golden." She explained, excited, "Professor Flitwick spoke about it last year because we're going to create our own tapestry this year."

She couldn't wait to work on this project. It would be really fun.

James looked at her with interest, especially as she explained the difference between Hedge Wizards and Squibs. Which was that Hedge Wizards only had access to a little bit of their magic, although it wasn't enough to use a wand, while Squibs had no access their magic at all.

"Why don't you finish looking at the tapestry?" He asked when she finished her explanation.

Harry gave him a curious look but did so.

Only to freeze a second later.

"James…"

"Huh?"

"Is this right?" The small witch asked slowly.

"What's?"

Harry licked her lips, "It says here that you were born on March 10, _1917_."

"I was." He replied, cutting her off when she looked at him in disbelief and opened her mouth to speak, "The Chamber." James said, as if it explained everything.

And, to Harry, it did.

One of the few things that she had learned about the people who took his memories from him and turned him into a puppet was that they kept James inside some kind of ice chamber and only took him out of it when they needed him. James commented that the time when they took him out of the Chamber could vary from days to _years_.

"Right," Harry muttered a little uncomfortable before she said, "You look good old man."

He snorted, "Why, thank you doll." He made a pause, "I know I'm attractive."

The witch scoffed, trying not to laughed as she relaxed.

"You're so modest." She said, getting a grin in return. Shaking her head, Harry looked at Rebecca, pausing and leaning forward with wide eyes.

**Rebecca K. Evans (née Barnes)**

**December 2, 1931 – May 16, 1991**

"My mother's maiden name was Evans." Harry said a little distracted, surprised at the coincidence.

James didn't answer. Instead, he said, "Keep going."

She did so.

Rebecca, Harry noticed, had married one Oleander A. Evans, who had been married before her and had a child with his first wife but since the two of them hadn't been Barnes by blood or didn't marry into the family, their names didn't show up on the tapestry.

With Oleander, James's sister had one daughter called –

"Oh," Harry froze, heart beating hard against her chest and hands trembling as she stared at the names of Rebecca's only daughter as well the woman's son-in-law and granddaughter. "_Oh._" Her vision blurred as tears fell from her eyes.

**Lily J. Potter (née Evans)...James C. Potter**

**January 30, 1974 – October 31, 1996…March 27, 1974 – October 31, 1996**

**Charis A Potter**

**July 31, 1995**

"Your sister was my grandmother." She whispered softly, hand hovering over her own name.

James smirked widely, "Happy Birthday, doll."

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 6. The Terribly Horrible Aunt Marge**

Not much changed after her birthday.

Oh, there was no doubt that the two of them had gotten closer, but their routine reminded the same; either going to the library together or walking around London whenever the Dursleys stayed away from home for the whole day.

What did change was the fact that James started to visit the Dursleys' home more often, usually leaving in the morning before returning hours later. The man seemed to have gotten a little more paranoid now that she knew about Grandmother Rebecca, as if he was afraid that someone would come and take her away from him. Actually, _that _was the only reason why Harry never said complained about his actions and merely smiled whenever he decided to camp in her room. It was just another way for the ice-blue eyed man to show that he cared for her.

"Girl! Get up!" At Aunt Petunia's screech, Harry looked up from the book she had been reading.

The green-eyed girl checked the time on the clock hanging on the grey wall of her room as she placed her book aside. It was time for breakfast – No. Correction: It was time for her to prepare her relatives' breakfast.

Harry sighed.

Good thing James had already left hours later. Her Great-Uncle hated it when he was reminded that Harry was, for all intents and purposes, her relatives' servant.

Unfortunately aside from murder or bloody harm, there was nothing that could be done about it. And no matter how much they hated or how badly they treated her, Harry didn't want to see her relatives being hurt.

"Girl!" Aunt Petunia banged on her door, making it shake.

"Coming, Aunt Petunia!" The green-eyed girl replied.

The older woman grumbled loudly as she stomped down the corridor and away from the door. Harry waited until she could no longer hear Aunt Petunia's footsteps before she walked out of her room and went downstairs to find the three Dursleys already sitting around the kitchen table, waiting for their food.

Without a word, she pulled the sleeves of her hoodie up and started to cook, sparing a few glances in her relatives' direction.

They were watching a brand-new television, one that had been placed there because Dudley had complained loudly about the long walk between the fridge and the television in the living room. Actually, when he wasn't with his friends, Dudley spent most of the summer in the kitchen, his eyes fixed on the screen and his five chins wobbling as he ate without even stopping to swallow and dropping food all over himself and the floor.

How Aunt Petunia, who Harry had always thought to have some kind of OCD when it came to cleaning, didn't say or do anything about it was still a mystery to the small girl.

Well, maybe the woman only cared about cleanliness when it suited her.

Suddenly recalling what she been doing, Harry immediately turned her attention back to the bacons and eggs she had been cooking, sighing in relief when she was able to keep them from burning. She then moved to prepare the rest of the food.

"Took you long enough," Aunt Petunia didn't even bother to thank her after she was finished, placing the plates filled with food over the table. None of the Dursleys ever thanked her for anything.

Carefully to not bring her relatives' attention toward her, Harry reached out to grab the single toast that she was allowed to eat and moved to stand in her corner of the kitchen.

"… the public is warned that Black is armed and extremely dangerous." The voice of the reporter on the television caused Harry to turn her attention toward it as she munched on her toast. "A special hot line has been set up, and any sighting of Black should be reported immediately."

"No need to tell us he's no good," Uncle Vernon snorted, staring at the picture of prisoner, which was being shown along the number of the hot line, "Look at the state of him, the filthy man! Look at his hair!"

He shot a nasty look sideways at Harry. She ignored him though, bowing her head and looking down at her old sneakers. Her hair wasn't as bad as it was when she had been younger. It was more wavy rather than the bird nest that she had been forced to deal with as a child.

But, as much as it pained her to admit it, she agreed with Uncle Vernon. The escaped convict hair's matted, elbow-length tangle looked horrible.

Didn't they have shampoo in prison? Whatever happened to basic human rights?

The reporter reappeared on the screen, "On other news, the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries will announce today –"

A large, almost purple, fist slammed against the table, making Harry jump at her corner, hunching her shoulders a little in case that fist turned on her.

"Hang on!" Uncle Vernon roared, glaring furiously at the reporter, as if the man could see him, "You didn't even tell us where that maniac's escaped from! What use is that?! The lunatic could be coming up the street right now!"

Harry shook her head when, at those final words, Aunt Petunia's head whipped around and she peered intently out of the kitchen's window.

Knowing the horse-faced woman, she would simply love to be the one to call the hot line number. Aunt Petunia was the greatest example of noisy housewife; the kind of who spent most of her life spying on the boring, law-abiding neighbors in search of some kind of juicy gossip or anything that she could twist malicious and use as she saw fit.

Unfortunately, in a place like Privet Drive, Aunt Petunia wasn't the only one who was like that.

"When will they learn," Uncle Vernon said fiercely, "that hanging's the only way to deal with these people?"

The thirteen years old leaning against the kitchen's wall resisted the urge of showing how much those words perturbed her.

"Very true," Aunt Petunia, who was still squinting into their neighbor's garden, nodded her head.

Harry was pretty sure that the blonde haired woman hadn't heard a single word that had come out of her husband's mouth and didn't even know to what she was agreeing with.

Uncle Vernon drained his teacup, glanced at his watch, and said, "I'd better be off in a minute, Petunia. Marge's train gets in at ten."

Harry froze as fear and horror washed over her body.

Say _what_?!

_Whose _train?!

"Aunt Marge is coming to visit?!" The small girl blurted out, barely hiding exactly what she thought of this visit.

Aunt Marge wasn't a blood relative of Harry's (Thank all gods out there for that), but since she was Uncle Vernon's sister, the raven haired girl was forced to call her_ 'Aunt'_.

The older Dursley lived in the country, in a house with a large garden, where she bred bulldogs. She didn't often stay at Privet Drive, because she couldn't bear to leave her precious dogs, but each of her visits stood out horribly vividly in Harry's mind.

None of them ever ended well.

On Aunt Marge last visit, for example, in the year before Harry started going to Hogwarts, the green-eyed girl had accidentally stepped on the tail of the woman's favorite dog. Ripper the bulldog had then bitten Harry and had only let go because Aunt Marge called the dog to eat. Harry hadn't been able to walk for two weeks because of that bite.

Harry's eyes flicked up to the ceiling, looking where she imagined her room would be.

She hoped nothing happened in this visit because her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle would be more than happy to get rid of Aunt Marge and Ripper if they caused her any trouble.

"Marge will be here for a week," Uncle Vernon snarled, "and while we're on the subject," He pointed a fat finger threateningly at Harry, causing her to flinch at the sudden movement, "we need to get a few things straight before I go and collect her."

Harry nodded, knowing that it was the best course of action if she didn't want to make Uncle Vernon angry. Without magic, she had no chance of being able to defend herself against him.

"Firstly," Uncle Vernon growled, "you'll keep a civil tongue in your head when you're talking to Marge. Do you understand?"

Harry wondered _when _she had not been civil with Aunt Marge but didn't voice her question out loud, nodding her head once more.

"Secondly," Uncle Vernon continued, "as Marge doesn't know anything about your _abnormality_," He spit in disgust, "so I don't want any – and I mean _any_ – funny business while she's here. You behave yourself, got me?!"

The green-eyed girl nodded.

But again; _when _hadn't she behaved herself when Aunt Marge visited? It was the woman who had some kind of sick pleasure in talking (Read: Insulting) to her and causing Harry to break something.

And the witch wasn't talking about Aunt Petunia's fine china.

"And thirdly," Uncle Vernon said, his mean little eyes now slits in his great purple face, "we've told Marge you attend St. Anne's Secure Center for Mentally Instable Girls."

"St. Anne's what?" Harry repeated slowly, not believing what she was hearing.

Did such place even exist?

"And you'll be sticking to that story, girl, or there'll be trouble," Uncle Vernon spat before turning to look at his wife, "Well, Pet," He turned to look at his wife, getting up to his feet, "I'll be off to the station, then. Want to come along for the ride, Dudders?"

"No," Dudley said dismissively, eyes glued on the television. Hadn't he broken his phone two days ago, he would have been focusing on it instead.

"Duddy's got to make himself smart for his auntie," Aunt Petunia informed her husband, smoothing Dudley's thick blond hair. "Mummy's bought him a lovely new bow-tie."

Uncle Vernon clapped Dudley on his shoulder, "See you in a bit, then," He said, leaving the kitchen.

Harry, who had been in some kind horrified trance at the mere thought o f having to deal with Marge Dursley, blinked.

"I – Can I be excused Aunt Petunia?" She asked.

The woman gave her a look and huffed, "Go, and at least try to make yourself presentable for Marge."

Harry bowed her head a little, "Yes, Aunt Petunia."

Half-eaten toast in hand, the witch quickly went back upstairs to her bedroom. The moment the door closed, she started to collect everything that was either important or magical and hiding it under a loose floorboard since she could no longer use the Cloak for that. She couldn't find it anywhere which meant that James must have taken it before he left that morning.

There was no way to know if Aunt Petunia would come to inspect her room like the giraffe-like woman usually did when the Dursleys had a guest, but Harry didn't want to risk anything. In the last inspection, Aunt Petunia had found a roll of parchment under Harry's bed and almost caused the girl to see stars for three whole days after hitting her niece in the head with a frying pan for apparently leaving something abnormal where anyone _normal _could see it.

Yeah, it didn't much sense but things rarely did when her relatives were involved.

Finished with hiding everything, she dashed toward Hedwig's cage. Her familiar was sleeping soundly, her under one of her wings, and Harry grimaced a little when she had to pock the snowy owl awake.

"Hedwig," The raven haired witch whispered when large yellow eyes turned to glare at her, "you're going to have to clear off for a week. Go to Neville, he'll look after you. I'll write him a note explaining the situation and – _Please_, stop looking at me like that" Hedwig didn't stop staring as Harry was an idiot, "it's not my fault, Hedwig! Aunt Marge is coming!"

Ten minutes later, Hedwig (who had a note to Neville bound to her leg) finally soared out of the window and out of sight. Harry watched her familiar for a moment before the small girl grabbed the now empty cage and put it away inside the wardrobe.

Harry barely had time to get changed when Aunt Petunia came shrieking up the stairs for the thirteen years old to come down and get ready to welcome their guest.

"And do something about your hair!" Aunt Petunia snapped as she reached the hall.

Harry really couldn't understand her relatives' problem with her hair. It was actually rather pretty. Uh – Maybe _that _was the problem.

"Let Mummy look at you, Duddykins," Harry heard Aunt Petunia cooing from the living room.

Dudley said something in return but Harry didn't pay attention to it, tapping her hands against her legs nervously as she prayed that something happened to stop Aunt Marge's train from reaching the station.

Much to Harry's despair, it didn't take long for her to hear the sound of Uncle Vernon's car pulling into the driveway, followed by the clunk of the car doors and heavy footsteps on the garden path.

The small thirteen years old girl took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what was to come. Feeling a little dejected, she threw an discrete look toward the grandfather clock in the dinning room.

James, she thought upon seeing the time, must have already returned to her room by now.

Harry bit her bottom lip, wishing that she could have been with her Great-Uncle instead of having to deal with Aunt Marge of all people. Being stuck in a room with Snape would have been so much better than that.

"Get the door!" Aunt Petunia hissed at Harry as she stepped beside the girl.

A feeling of doom filled her whole being as Harry walked to the front door and pulled it open.

And there Aunt Marge was, standing on the threshold with an ugly expression on her face (Although one could very well say that this was just how her face looked all the time).

The woman hadn't changed from the last time Harry saw her. Aunt Marge was still very like Uncle Vernon: large, beefy, and purple-faced. She even had a mustache to match her brother's, though isn't wasn't as bushy as his. In one hand the gorilla-like woman held an enormous suitcase, and tucked under the other was an old and evil-looking bulldog.

"Where's my Dudders?" Aunt Marge roared, causing Harry to flinch. "Where's my neffy poo?"

_Neffy poo? _The raven haired witch held the urge of snickering, _That's new._

At the ridiculous pet names, Dudley came waddling down the hall, his blond hair plastered flat to his fat head, a bow tie just visible under his many chins.

Aunt Marge thrust the suitcase into Harry's stomach, knocking the wind out of her, and pushed the small girl against the wall with enough force to bruise her back. Harry gritted her teeth, trying to not show just how much it hurt while Aunt Marge seized Dudley in a tight one-armed hug, and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

Dudley's face twisted with disgust but he quickly replaced it with a large smile.

Harry rubbed her stomach as she watched him. She knew perfectly well that Dudley only put up with Aunt Marge's hugs because he was well paid for it, and sure enough, when they broke apart, Dudley had a crisp twenty-pound note clutched in his fat fist.

"Petunia!" Aunt Marge shouted, striding past Harry as though the girl was a hat-stand. Although that wasn't so bad – Maybe if the woman kept treating Harry like that then they could survive the day without any kind of incident.

With James – possibly – upstairs, Harry really didn't want to know what would happen if Aunt Marge did something to truly hurt the green-eyed girl. He didn't need to _see _to _know _that Harry was being harmed. It was like he had some kind of sixth sense when the topic was her safety and well being.

With an almost soundless sigh, Harry turned her head to see Aunt Marge and Aunt Petunia kissing their cheeks in greeting. Or rather, Aunt Marge bumping her large jaw against Aunt Petunia's bony cheekbone.

Uncle Vernon came in, smiling jovially as he shut the door behind him.

"Tea, Marge?" He asked. "And what will Ripper take?"

"Ripper can have some tea out of my saucer," Aunt Marge said as they all walked into the kitchen, leaving Harry alone in the hall with the suitcase.

Not that she was complaining. The thirteen years old was very happy to have an excuse to not be exposed to Aunt Marge's presence, even if it was only for a while.

Gathering all her strength, which she was ashamed to say that it wasn't much, Harry began to heave the suitcase upstairs and into the spare bedroom, making sure to her time.

It _was_ a very heavy suitcase.

By the time she stepped into the kitchen, Aunt Marge had been supplied with tea and fruitcake, and Ripper was lapping noisily in the corner. Aunt Petunia, who hated animals as much as they hated her, winced every time she looked at the dog.

"Who's looking after the other dogs, Marge?" Uncle Vernon asked as Harry made her way to her usual corner, trying to make herself as insignificant as possible.

If she was lucky, Aunt Marge won't even notice that she was there and nor would one her relatives order her to do anything for them.

"Oh, I've got Colonel Fubster managing them." Aunt Marge said loudly, "He's retired now, good for him to have something to do. But I couldn't leave poor old Ripper. He pines if he's away from me." She cooed at the evil bulldog that growled when he noticed Harry.

The girl winced when the action directed Aunt Marge's attention to her.

_Why?! _Was it really too much of Harry to ask for her to be ignored and be left alone in her dark and safe corner?

"So!" The gorilla-like woman barked. "Still here, are you?"

"Yes, ma'am." Harry replied as politely as she could.

"Mind your tone you ungrateful girl," Aunt Marge growled.

The green-eyed girl clenched her fists behind her back, biting her tongue she tiredly asked _what tone?_. There was no _tone_. Harry was keeping her voice as calm and as respectful as possible.

Aunt Marge continued, "It's damn good of Vernon and Petunia to keep you. Wouldn't have done it myself. You'd have gone straight to an orphanage if you'd been dumped on my doorstep."

_Compared to this place, an orphanage would have been nice_, Harry thought with a mental sigh.

The older Dursley, always trying to finding something to use to insult Harry with, eyed the small girl with distaste.

"I can see you haven't improved since I last saw you. I hoped school would knock some manners into you." Aunt Marge took a large gulp of tea, wiped her mustache, and said, "Where is it that you sent her to, Vernon?"

"St. Anne's," Uncle Vernon said promptly. "It's a first-rate institution for hopeless cases involving mentally instable girls."

Harry's eyes flickered to the side at this, frowning a little.

She could swear that she heard someone growling. Harry shrugged after a moment, it must have been Ripper again.

"I see," Aunt Marge said, "Do they use the cane at St. Annie's, girl?" She barked across the table, staring at Harry with her dirty brown eyes.

The witch couldn't believe she was hearing.

Was it even legal to use the cane in this time and age? Harry didn't think so.

Even so, she said politely, "Yes, ma'am." At the look Uncle Vernon gave her, the green-eyed girl added, "All the time."

"Excellent," Aunt Marge looked absolutely _gleeful _at the thought. "I won't have this namby-pamby, wishy-washy nonsense about not hitting people who deserve it. A good thrashing is what's needed in ninety-nine cases out of a hundred. Have you been beaten often?"

There was another growl.

Harry twitched at the sound and said, "Yes, ma'am."

Aunt Marge narrowed her dirty brown eyes.

"I still don't like your tone, girl," She said, pointing a fat finger at Harry, "If you can speak of your beatings in that casual way, they clearly aren't hitting you hard enough." The oldest Dursley didn't even pause as she continued, "Petunia, I'd write to this school if I were you. Make it clear that you would approve of a more _extreme_ use of force on this girl."

This time, Harry heard the familiar click of a gun.

She paled as realization struck her.

_Uh-oh_, Harry thought, scanning the room desperately while looking for any sign of her Great-Uncle.

James was nowhere to be seen but she _knew _he was there. How was he hiding in the kitchen though was a myste – Harry resisted the urge of face palming. He must have been using her Invisibility Cloak.

Uncle Vernon must have felt some kind of disturbance in the Force or something like that because he looked around warily, shot her an suspicious look and then changed the subject abruptly.

"Did you hear the news this morning, Marge?" He asked quickly, "What about that escaped prisoner, eh?"

As Aunt Marge started to rant about the incompetence of the police, Harry started to look for James. Try as she did though, he was better at using her Cloak than she was because Harry couldn't even find a single hint of him around the room.

Not that this was all that surprising, Harry thought after a few minutes, James _had _been a soldier and then an assassin before they meet. Becoming one with the shadows and walking around as if he was a ghost was like second nature to him by now.

Giving up, Harry decided to wait for him to make some kind of sound once more.

Not that she had to wait for long.

"You mustn't blame yourself for the way the girl's turned out, Vernon." Harry barely heard Aunt Marge say, far too busy with trying to pinpoint her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle, "It's all to do with the mother." The witch froze at this, turning to look at Aunt Marge with wide eyes. The woman went on, "You see it all the time with dogs. If something's wrong with the bitch, then something's wrong with the pup."

Harry gasped in horror at the insult toward her beloved – and _dead _– mother, her vision blurring with angry tears. There was a change in the air, much like a breeze, as the raven haired girl took a deep breath, clenching and unclenching her fists; she had to stay calm of she didn't want some kind of violent accidental magic to happen.

The witch was so focused in her self-imposed task of keeping herself calm and in control that she didn't even flinch when she heard another click and the tea cup in Aunt Marge's hand exploded, breaking in little pieces. Shards of porcelain flew in every direction and Aunt Marge sputtered, her great ruddy face dripping. Ripper made an distressed sound as he dashed to hide under the table.

"Marge!" Aunt Petunia screeched, "Marge, are you all right?!"

Harry felt a hand gripping her shoulder but she ignored it, trembling like a leaf as she started counting backwards from a hundred.

She gritted her teeth, angry tears falling down from her eyes.

How could someone be so horrible?! Not even Snape was like that! The Potions Master liked to insult her father but his insults always came out as petty and childish rather than cruel.

"Not to worry," Aunt Marge grunted, mopping her face with her napkin. "Must have squeezed it too hard. Did the same thing at Colonel Fubster's the other day. No need to fuss, Petunia, I have a very firm grip…"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon didn't agree, both of them looking at Harry suspiciously. The small girl didn't even notice it, keeping her head down. Dudley, on other hand, squeaked in fear as he pointed a pudgy shaking finger in direction of the wall behind Aunt Marge.

"M-Mum, D-Dad…" He squeaked.

Both of them as well as Aunt Marge turned to see what was causing him to react like that. When they did see what it was, as well what had truly caused the glass of wine to explode, the three of them paled.

"I-Is that a –" Aunt Petunia couldn't finish.

Uncle Vernon gulped, torn between disbelief and horror, "…bullet hole?"

There was another click and, this time, _everyone _heard it.

The four Dursleys froze, turning their heads _slowly. _To say they were pale upon finding the menacing and murderous looking man with cold ice-blue eyes standing hovering behind Harry would have been a understatement. Dudley, especially, looked like a ghost; he had never forgotten his first encounter with James.

"That was your first and last warning," James bared his teeth, holding his gun in their direction. "One more word – And I won't miss again."

The fact that Harry didn't even care if he shot one of her relatives or that she didn't even try to calm him down spoke volumes about how affected she was by Aunt Marge's words. The small girl hadn't even looked up at his threat. Although she did seem a little more calmer than before.

"Now," The ice-blue eyed man said, "Why don't we have a chat, huh?"

The Dursleys trembled as he smiled widely.

It wasn't a pretty sight.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 7. Rosewood's Mews**

Three and a half hours after Aunt Marge arrival, Harry sat on the edge of her bed, facing the ceiling. Clutching Hedwig's empty cage again her chest, the thirteen years old closed her eyes, feeling emotionally drained.

Nothing new there though – Dealing with Aunt Marge always resulted in Harry wanting to throw herself inside her old cupboard under the stairs and not leave it until she could properly forget that the horrible woman didn't even exist.

Sighing, she tried to focus on the frantic thumping of her heart. Which, honestly, was easier said than done. Especially as her mind kept distracting her.

After he revealed himself and silenced the Dursleys with a single look, James handed her Invisibility Cloak to her and then ushered her out of kitchen, kindly telling her to gather all of her things and wait for him to come to get her.

Still in shock at how disrespectful Aunt Marge had acted toward her dead mother, Harry complied without a single word in protest. She hadn't even looked behind her when James closed the kitchen's door with enough force to break it. Harry had been far too angry and emotionally exhausted at that moment, not even caring about what could happened to her relatives.

Shaking her head, the small girl decided to think about something else. It won't do for her to start to get angry all over again, not when her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle was actually dealing with the situation (Although she did her best to not think about _how _he was doing such thing).

Biting her bottom lip, Harry turned her head to stare at the door of her room.

She wondered what was going downstairs.

As if he had been waiting for her to think such thing, the door opened and James peered inside her room. He wasn't using his gloves for once, revealing his flesh and metal hands. And there was something that looked like blood in his shirt, though she decided to ignore it. It was better like that.

"Come on, doll." The long haired man said as he walked closer to her and took her trunk from the floor. "We're getting out of here."

"Did you hurt them?" She found herself asking.

James's eyebrow twitched. The small girl would have missed it if it hadn't been for her skills as a Seeker.

"I did what I had to do," He replied, not truly answering her question.

There were many ways that she could interpret his words but Harry decided to not dwell on it. He would tell her when he decided that it was the right time. He always did.

"Ok," Harry muttered, jumping to her feet and making a motion to follow him only to stop when she saw James staring.

"What?" She asked softly, feeling a little confused at the intensity of the look he was giving her.

Her Great-Uncle seemed to search for something on her face before he sighed with a soft smile and shook his head, muttering in Russian.

"Nothing, doll." James said, patting her head gently before leading her out of the room.

They used the back door to leave the house. And as the two of them made their way down the street, Harry looked over her shoulder at Number Four, Privet Drive for a few seconds, staring at it before running after James.

_I'm actually leaving_, the small witch thought, a little dazed, _I'm leaving and never coming back._

This realization almost felt surreal.

Back in her First Year, Harry had hoped that she would have been able to leave Privet Drive and everything that it represented behind her. She had dreamed of staying at Hogwarts over the summer holidays, even if she had to work with Hagrid or Filch to earn her keep.

But then Dumbledore had crushed her hopes and dreams. Not in a malicious way, but his ignorance and belief that she was exaggerating when speaking about her relatives treatment of her had almost ripped her heart in little pieces, leaving Harry with nothing more than resignation because she had understood at that moment, with a single look toward her old Headmaster, that he would always bring her back to the Dursleys if she tried to leave.

However, things were different now.

Now she was leaving for good and that old hope light up once more and she felt like she could dream once more of having a place which she could call home. Even better, Harry was pretty sure that James won't allow Dumbledore to take her back to the Dursleys – The ice-blue eyed man would fight for her and he would _win_ (There was no doubt of that in her mind).

"Where're we going?" Harry asked as they waited in a bus stop (Waited for a normal bus, that's it. Not the _Knight _Bus).

James leaned back, hands inside the pockets of his coat as he closed his eyes.

"London." He said.

Harry gave him a look, "I know that." The green-eyed girl said slowly. She wasn't stupid; she recognized the route the bus was taking, "But where in London?"

Her Great-Uncle seemed amused by the slightly annoyance in her voice but, this time, he didn't give her some kind of half-answer.

"Notting Hill, just a short walk away from Hyde Park." James replied.

Harry blinked.

Aunt Petunia had spoken about Notting Hill before. It was, apparently, the neighborhood of her dreams. The woman would have sold her soul to live there. Not that Uncle Vernon would ever want to leave Privet Drive.

The ice-blue eyed man went on, "When I confirmed my theory with the Goblins and got the family tapestry done for you, I asked if I had inherited anything from either the Graves and the Minus Family."

"Did you?" Harry asked curiously, leaning closer to him.

James chuckled, opening his eyes and looking at her, "I got a few vaults and five properties." He said, "There was only one propriety in Britain so that's where we're going."

The small thirteen years old let out a _ooh_, wondering if she should visit the Goblins as well. Maybe she had also inherited a few interesting things from distant relatives?

"I wonder what kind of house it's…" Harry said out loud, tapping her bottom lip as she tried to imagine the type of place James's ancestors would call home.

The ice-blue eyed man made a face and said dryly, "I'm sure you'll like it. It's _adorable_." He rolled his eyes.

"What's wrong with that?" Harry asked, huffing a little.

"Oh, there's nothing wrong with it per say…"

The raven haired witch pocked his arm when he didn't continue, "So…?"

"You'll see." James said, leaving this conversation at that and closing his eyes.

The small girl puffed her cheeks a little but didn't say anything else, turning her head to look out of the window. She had never truly seen this part of London before.

She didn't know how long it took before they reached their destination. Harry was far too distracted with everything around her to really stop to check the time.

Holding James's flesh hand, Harry followed him in silence until the two of them stopped before an archway.

It took her only a moment to notice that much like how the Leaky Cauldron was hidden from Muggles, the same could be said about the archway. People didn't even spare a single glance toward it.

"It's magical," Harry commented as James lead her through the archway and into a –

She gasped.

With green eyes filled with amazement, Harry stared at the attractive cobblestone street lined with about two dozen colorful mews houses and several little shops, all with their own unique design but still managing to mesh perfectly together.

The mews houses were as colorful and as charming as one could get, with architectural details like wrought-iron railings dripping with lush green vines, and oversize barn doors that doubled as shutters. Almost all window boxes were accented with flower pots overflowing with magical plants and Harry noticed _fairies_ and other cute little creatures flying or running around.

At the far end of the long street, Harry saw what looked to be a plaza with a grandiose fountain, which had a group of golden statues in the middle of a circular pool (Although the raven haired witch was too far away to see what those statues were), surrounded by several fancy, eccentric-looking boots and stalls as well trees, making it look like a little park.

"Wow," Was all Harry said as looked around.

James tucked his hands inside the pockets of his coat. His lips twitched up, "I'm glad you like it." He said.

The thirteen years old turned to look at him, "What's this place?"

"It's called Rosewood's Mews," The ice-blue eyed man replied, "It's one of the three magical streets in London along the Highgate Street and Diagon Alley."

Harry blinked, humming. She knew about Rosewood's Mews and the Highgate Street. Both places were fairly new compared to Diagon Alley as well as unknown.

Because of all popularity and _tradition _surrounding Diagon Alley, not many knew about the other two magical places in London. The fact that they were mostly populated by immigrants or descendants of immigrants also contributed with their anonymity since the more traditionalists wizards and witches liked to ignore the existence of non-English in their country.

"Which one is the house?" Harry asked with excitement, scanning the houses on the street as they walked. None of those houses were similar, having colors ranging from classic red brick to a vibrant blue with sunshine-yellow accents.

James's face was the picture of sourness as he pointed to one of the houses at the far end of the street, fairly close to the plaza.

Harry followed his finger before she paused.

"It's…"

"Pink." He completed for her, sounding defeated.

She looked away from the absolutely adorable house and gave him a amused look, "Actually, it's _rose_-pink."

"That's what I said."

"You said _pink_."

James pitched the bridge of his nose, "Same thing."

"No, it's not." Harry said, rolling her eyes at the look he gave her. It was like he was starting to wonder if she was colorblind.

_Men_, she thought with all fond exasperation a thirteen years old girl could manage.

"Come on, you big baby," She took his hand. "Let's look inside!"

He smiled at her, eyes incredibly soft (James had never seen her act so carefree. It was like being away from those animals and knowing that she would never come back to their house had taken some kind of weight off her shoulders – And he would do _anything _to keep her happy like that. His niece, Rebecca's grandbaby, deserved all happiness in the world).

The stopped in front of the rose-pink Number Seven and Harry looked at James upon noticing that there was no keyhole anywhere.

The ice-blue eyed man brought his flesh hand to his lips, biting his thumb until it bleeding and then pressed it against the doorknob. Harry stared as it glowed, wiggled and then there was a _click_ before the door opened on its own.

Harry beamed.

She loved magic.

"Look," The small girl said to James, "the interior isn't pink."

The witch giggled as James looked up at the ceiling as if thanking the gods for that. While he closed the door, Harry started looking around the house.

It was naturally well lit and airy and offered a very homey feel to it. On the ground floor there was the foyer, a guest bathroom, a dinning room and a open plan living room and kitchen with bi-folding doors leading out to a beautiful garden. On the first floor there was a drawing room as well a study and the library. On the second floor, there was another part of the library as well a potions lab, and two empty rooms. On the third floor, it was possible to find five bedrooms, two of them en-suite with a walk in closet. The house also had a roof garden and a basement, which was where one could find the utility room as well a room-like space for any House-Elf.

"It's bigger on the inside." James commented, not sounding all that surprised.

Honestly, Harry wanted to be there when something magical finally made him react like a normal person.

"I like it!" Harry smiled widely, feeling a little giddy as she kept thinking about how this was her house now.

James smiled at her, "I'm glad you like it… The color of the house could have been different though." He wrinkled his nose a little.

"If it was your choice," Harry gave him a look, "You would have painted it black."

James crossed his arms, arching an eyebrow, "What's wrong with black? It's a classic and neutral color."

"What's wrong with rose-pink? It's a very light and pretty color." Harry copied the tone of his voice, crossing her arms as well.

They stared at each other for two minutes, refusing to budge. Soon though, her Great-Uncle looked pained.

"Fine, we keep the pink," He grumbled. "At least no one will think of looking for us in a _pink _house." Looking curious at that, the small girl opened her mouth to speak but the tall, long haired man cut her off, "Why don't we place our things inside our rooms? We can explore a little."

Harry sighed a little but didn't complain about his attempt of distracting her. Instead she grabbed her trunk from him and quickly headed to her room with excitement.

She couldn't wait to see how different this place was from Diagon Alley!

* * *

It took her a while but as the days slipped by, Harry got used to her new life. The same thing happened to him but she noticed that it took him a few more days to truly relax and stopping looking over his shoulder with that paranoia of his that would never truly disappear.

Harry enjoyed her time with her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle. They would eat together everyday before either exploring Rosewood's Mews (Whose shops were similar but still extremely different from Diagon Alley's, having a little bit more variety to it) or e exploring London; like museums or touristic attractions that Harry had always wanted to see.

She had tried to invite Neville to visit her house and to maybe spend the day on Rosewood's Mews (They could get their school supplies and look through the shops) but, unfortunately, Augusta Longbottom was one of the more traditionalists purebloods that had some kind of horrible pre-conception about the place and forbade Neville from coming.

The small girl had been a little disappointed at this but quickly recovered as Neville promised to meet up with her on September 1st, which was only a few days away.

To be honest, Harry couldn't wait to go back to school, she had just finished getting all her books and was curious to see what her electives' classes would like. Although, there was a part of her that was a little hesitant to go.

She didn't want to leave James behind.

"What's with that face, doll?"

Blinking as his voice pulled her out her thoughts, Harry turned to look at James and shrugged, "Nothing really." She muttered.

James eyed her for a moment, humming in thought, "If you say so, Charis." He said as they stopped walking next to one of the tables with brightly colored umbrellas outside of the ice-cream shop near their house. "Why don't you sit down? I'll get something for us."

Harry perked up, "I want Butterbeer ice-cream!"

Patting her head as he walked away, James chuckled, "You always want Butterbeer ice-cream."

Even though he couldn't see her, Harry stuck her tongue out at him, "At least I don't eat peach and jalapeño, you weirdo!" She said, sitting down with a huff and ignoring his laugher.

Harry smiled softly when she noticed that James was far into the shop and won't notice her. Shoulders dropping, she wondered for a moment if there was a way to get him into Hogwarts… Maybe she could use her Invisibility Cloak to hide him?

"They're only reporting this now?!" A loud voice caused her to look at a group of elderly looking wizards sitting at the table beside hers.

The four of them seemed to be ignoring their Sundays to focus on the newspaper that one of them was holding.

"Of course they're only reporting this now," A grumpy looking wizard, who seemed to have a permanent scowl, said. "The Ministry is filled with incompetents."

The bald little wizard beside him looked worried, "Maybe I shouldn't let my grandson go to Hogwarts this year… Not after this." He made a motion to the newspaper.

The old blue eyed old man, who was holding the newspaper, and the red haired wizard sitting beside him nodded.

Green eyes stared at the quartet in confusion before flicking to a large photograph of a sunken-faced man with long, matted hair on the front page. The man at the picture blinked slowly at Harry.

He looked strangely familiar.

Harry gasped when she recalled where she had seen him and blurted out, "That's the man on the Muggle news!"

The old men turned to look at her, not really looking bothered by her interruption which was a relief to the now embarrassed Harry. The blue eyed old wizard turned to the front page.

"That's Sirius Black," He said patiently. "He is so dangerous that they thought that it would be better if he showed up on the Muggle News as well."

The grumpy wizard scoffed, "The only reason they involved the Muggles is because Fudge is a incompetent idiot. His Aurors can't do anything so he's using the Muggles."

The red haired wizard sitting across him gave him a look, "_Everyone _is incompetent to you, Ulric."

Ulric crossed his arms, "That's because _they're_, Donny."

The blue eyed wizard rolled his eyes at the duo and removed the front page, handing it to Harry.

"Here dear, take a look." He said.

Harry thanked him and held the paper up to read:

**BLACK STILL AT LARGE**

_Sirius Black, possibly the most infamous prisoner ever to be held in Azkaban fortress, is still eluding capture, the Ministry of Magic confirmed today._

"_We are doing all we can to recapture Black," said the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, this morning, "and we beg the magical community to remain calm."_

_Fudge has been criticized by some members of the International Federation of Warlocks for informing the Muggle Prime Minister of the crisis._

"_Well, really, I had to, don't you know," said an irritable Fudge. "Black is mad. He's a danger to anyone who crosses him, magic or Muggle. I have the Prime Minister's assurance that he will not breathe a word of Black's true identity to anyone. And let's face it — who'd believe him if he did?"_

_While Muggles have been told that Black is carrying a gun (a kind of metal wand that Muggles use to kill each other) the magical community lives in fear of a massacre like that of twelve years ago, when Black murdered thirteen people with a single curse._

Harry looked into the shadowed eyes of Sirius Black, the only part of the sunken face that seemed alive. Hadn't it been for those eyes, Harry was sure that he would have looked just like one.

"He murdered thirteen people with _one _curse?" Harry asked faintly, staring at the paper with wide eyes.

Was that possible? She had never heard about such spell. Although it wasn't like she knew anything about the Dark Arts. Who knows? Maybe Black used something like one of those sacrificial rituals that showed up on movies and TV shows sometimes.

"He did," Donny replied, darkly, "in broad daylight and in a Muggle neighborhood. Good thing the Aurors got him. Otherwise, there would have been more victims."

His companions voiced their agreement.

"But…" Harry bit her bottom little, looking a little hesitant to ask. "Why would he do that?"

The bald little wizard gave her a kind look, "People like him don't need a reason to do bad things, child."

"It's in his blood," Ulric spat. "Those Blacks! Supporters of You-Know-Who, all of them!" When the bald little wizard opened his mouth to speak, he went on, "Don't even start Isaac! You know I'm right!"

Isaac looked a little put off but didn't say anything. At this, Ulric continued.

"When that Potter girl got rid of You-Know-Who for us –" Harry discretely adjusted her beanie in hopes that the grumpy old wizard won't notice her scar. "– Black tried to evade capture and blasted half the street. Twelve Muggles and a wizard –"

"Poor Peter Pettigrew." Isaac shook his head. "They only found his finger."

Ulric continued as if he hadn't spoken, "– died that day. , When the Aurors finally got him, all he did was laugh. Bastard didn't even bother to fight while they took him to Azkaban."

"Are you implying that you _wanted _him to have resisted his arrest?" Donny scowled at Ulric but was ignored.

"Shut it, Donny."

"Please, act your age, you two." The blue eyed wizard sighed.

Emerald green eyes blinked as Harry tried to process all that information. There was no doubt that she was horrified at what she was hearing but she also felt confused.

The part about Peter Pettigrew didn't make sense!

Harry had done enough research while trying to help James to know that a blast big enough to kill _thirteen _people won't have left only a finger behind. The Aurors should have been able to find other parts of the wizard who died.

That was really strange and a little suspicious.

Had Peter Pettigrew really died? Was he really a innocent as people thought? Or had he been working with Black and faked his death so he could wait for Voldemort to return?

Also, one more thing –

"Why don't you want your grandchild to go to Hogwarts, sir?" Harry asked the bald little wizard, "Won't he be safer at Hogwarts?"

If he was worried about his Grandson and thinking that with Black running around the streets won't be safe then didn't it make more sense to send the boy to Hogwarts? Harry knew that the castle was far from being the safest place around but surely Black won't try to go there.

"Isaac is worried because Black is going to Hogwarts." Ulric said bluntly.

The blue eyed wizard glared at him while Donny and Isaac gave him sour looks, as if they couldn't believe he had just said that to her.

"What he means is that before Black escaped, he kept saying something about Hogwarts." Isaac said gently, trying to not fright her.

Harry appreciated his efforts but it was unnecessary. Harry was afraid of a lot of things but people like Black and Voldemort were way down the list.

Donny nodded to himself, "We don't think that he'll be able to enter Hogwarts but the Minister decided to send Dementors to the castle in case he does."

"Dementors…?" The thirteen years old asked, hesitant.

"The guards of Azakaban," The blue eyed old man explained, "They're horrible monsters that take away all your happiness."

That sounded –

"And suck out your soul leaving nothing more than an empty shell behind." Ulric added dryly.

Harry felt a little sick.

That – That sounded beyond terrifying and just a little extreme. No one deserved to have their souls eaten by some kind of creature.

"Ulric!" The blue eyed wizard snapped before Donny had the chance to smack the grumpy looking wizard with his walking stick.

"Don't look at me like that Levi! Kid needs to know." Ulric said, not even a little sorry. "She looks like the right age for Hogwarts."

Levi rubbed his eyes with a heavy sigh.

"So, er," Harry said, uncomfortable. The quartet looked at her, "_Why_ is Black going to Hogwarts?"

This time, before Ulric had the chance to say something traumatizing or harsh, Donny replied calmly, if not a little upset, "Because, if the Ministry is to be believed, Black is going after little Harry Potter."

There was a crushing sound and the five of them whipped their heads around to see the source of the sound.

Harry winced a little when she saw James, ice-cream dripping from his hands after he crushed the glass cups he had been holding. The ice-blue eyed man bared his teeth.

"Really now?" Her Great-Uncle purred dangerously, "I want to see him try."

A little resigned at the fact that this would clearly like the others (Why something or someone was always trying to kill her? Couldn't she have a little bit of peace and quiet?), Harry looked back at Black's picture.

The man at the picture gave her a sardonic smile.

Good news though: With an escaped convict after her, there was _no way _that James won't be following her to Hogwarts. Not with expression like that on his face.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**

**CURIOSITY TIME!**

**Mews Houses: **_When London expanded to the west in the 18th century, grand terraces of town houses where built and they needed spaces for horses, coaches and servants, and the solution was to build a road round the back where stables could be built. They became known as 'mews' after the Royal Mews, a gigantic stables on what is now Trafalgar Square. This word (technically, it is 'plural in form but singular in construction') derived from the original use of the stables building which was to house the king's falcons. Falcons moult or mew (from the French verb 'muer') , and the place where they did it was referred to as a mews. In the early 20th century, the motor car and the servant shortage made mews houses unnecessary for many home owners. Most were sold off and businesses such as taxi firms, garages and print shops moved in. Mews became a byword as scruffy back-streets, often used as locations for gritty gangland dramas on black-and-white TV. Then, in the swinging 1960s, racing drivers such as John Surtees and James Hunt discovered they could buy a mews house for not much money and live above their cars. After a while, people began to realize that mews houses are very practical and have huge charm and because they were built to serve the aristocracy, many are located in the very best areas._


	8. Chapter 8

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 8. Screams Through the Night**

On the day Harry was meant to head to Hogwarts, she used the Knight Bus to get to the King's Cross station.

Her Great-Uncle, of course, was with her. Fully packed with all kinds of guns and weapons that he owned and completely hidden under her Invisibility Cloak.

Just like she had guessed, upon finding out about Black and the escaped convict's mission to kill her, James started to research every book available about Hogwarts so je could find a way to follow her to the castle without being detected.

The solution for this problem had been a surprise, something that left Harry with more questions than answers.

It happened two days before she had to leave for Hogwarts.

Harry had been in the library of _their _house (She still felt a little giddy at the thought) with James, looking through the fascinating Charms books there when she muttered something under her breath. She didn't even remember what it was, only she must have mentioned Dobby because the small House-Elf popped beside her as soon as she stopped speaking.

"The Great Lady Charis call for Dobby?" The little creature said, staring at the witch with his large, tennis-ball-like green eyes.

Harry yelped, throwing the book she was holding over her head, while James pulled his always present gun and aimed.

Dobby didn't seem even a little bothered by it, staring at her with his usual adoration, which had only gotten worse after she tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing him.

"Dobby!" Harry breathed out, placing a hand above her racing heart. "What're you doing here?"

"The Great Lady Charis call for Dobby and Dobby come to help." The House-Elf said with excitement, hopping a little.

James lowered his gun slightly, mouthing _'The Great Lady Charis'_ with amusement. Harry sent an half-hearted glare at him before focusing on Dobby.

"Did I really…?" She asked.

Dobby nodded.

"Oh, eh," Harry tried to recall what she said before it clicked. "Wait do you know how James can come to Hogwarts with me?"

At least that was wondering out loud: If Dobby, who had sneaked on Hogwarts last year, won't know what they had to do.

James looked interested at the answer to her question, eying Dobby with new eyes as he wondered what the creature could do.

"Dobby be a House-Elf so Dobby can hide from wards with his magic." The little creature with a long nose and bat-like pointed ears explained. "But the Great Lady Charis can do the same with her Cloak."

Harry stared for a moment.

"You mean my Invisibility Cloak?" At his nod, she gave him a gently look. "Dobby, my Cloak can't hide me from Dumbledore, how would it hide James from the wards?"

The Headmaster always knew where she was whenever she used the Cloak in his presence. Harry was pretty sure the old man's glasses were Charmed to see anyone under a Invisibility Cloak or Glamour.

Dobby shook his head, clutching his yellow and green hoodie, "No. No. The Great Lady Charis be using her Cloak wrong. She using it like normal Cloak but her Cloak not be normal."

The small thirteen years old frowned, not understanding. Carefully, she walked to the armchair where she had left her Cloak a few days early and picked the shining, silvery cloth. She stared at it for a moment before handing it to Dobby.

The House-Elf looked it over and then seemed to pull something from the inside of the fabric. Harry blinked when she saw that Dobby was now holding a _hooded cloak _instead of her normal one.

She gaped, "There's a hood?"

Harry didn't know it had a hood.

"Now the Great Lady Charis try," Dobby said proudly, handing over the Cloak.

The raven haired girl took the Cloak and, instead of throwing it over her head like she always did, she threw it around her shoulders. Looking down, she noticed that her body was still visible. Confused, Harry decided to pull the hood up, not expecting what happened next.

She almost jumped when the Cloak warped itself around her tightly – It had never done that!

"Does it seem any different, doll?" James asked.

"Aside from how it moved on its own? Not really." Harry replied.

Her Great-Uncle frowned, "Doll?"

"What?" She blinked at the tone of his voice.

"Charis!"

"_What?_"

James took a deep breath, hand tightening around the grip of his gun, "Charis. I'm hoping you're still here and talking to me but I _can't_ hear you."

The small girl froze.

What…?

Looking around with uncertain eyes, approached James, standing beside him. Maybe she was too far for him to hear her.

"James."

He didn't even flinch at the sound of her voice. She stared down at her hand in thought after this and reached out to touch him, only to scream.

Harry pulled her hand back, her eyes wide.

Her hand had actually gone _through_ him, as if he was _ghost_. That – What was going on?!

With shaking hands, Harry pulled the hood down. She ignored James as his eyebrows twitched in surprise and instead turned to look at Dobby.

"How did it do that?" She asked, half-terrified and half-awed.

Harry had never heard about a Invisibility Cloak doing something like that. Normal Invisibility Cloaks didn't mute sounds nor did they make the user intangible!

"The Great Lady Charis' Cloak be legendary." Dobby said as if it explained everything.

"What happened?" James demanded to know, speaking over the House-Elf.

The green-eyed girl turned to look at her Great-Uncle and started explaining what had just happened with the Cloak. Immediately, he asked to try it. But when he did, Harry could still hear him and could still feel him. It was like her Cloak had gone back to normal.

Dobby, however, shook his head when she said this and explained that the Cloak was Harry's. It would only truly work for her, it would only hide _Harry_ from _everything_. When anyone else was using it with _Harry's _permission, it would hide the user from certain things but not everything.

His words were a little strange but Harry didn't have time to think or ask about their meaning because the House-Elf continued, saying that while it won't work the same way with James, it would still hide him from the Hogwarts' wards. All the ice-blue eyed man needed to do was to be quiet and not touch anyone while under the Cloak.

"But why does it work different for me?" Harry asked.

Dobby looked into her eyes, "Because _She _made it."

That didn't answer her question and Dobby also didn't give her the chance to make any more questions about the Cloak because left, muttering something about a bumblebee.

And, while knowing that the Cloak would make it so James won't be detected by the wards around Hogwarts, the mystery surrounding her Family Heirloom kept bothering her.

Why was her Cloak different from others? Who was the _She _Dobby had been talking about?

"Thinking about the Cloak again?"

Harry jumped as James's voice pulled her out of her thoughts and brought her back to the present.

She looked down at her hands, "A little." The small witch admitted.

"Don't keep thinking about it," He patted her head gently. "The answer will show itself to you when the time its right." He said. "If not, you can find that Dobby creature and ask him."

The thirteen years old took a deep breath.

Maybe he was right. It won't do for her to keep thinking about it and when Dobby showed up again (And she knew that he would), the small girl could ask him more about it.

"So," James said, "Tell me more about your school? How do you get there?"

Harry smiled a little and started explaining.

* * *

The Knight Bus reached King's Cross not even twenty minutes after she started talking about Hogwarts.

James stayed close to her, much like a shadow, as Harry found an trolley for herself and they made their way into the station.

"Charis," She heard him ask from beside her, "How're we going to get to this Platform nine and three-quarters?"

Harry perked up, "You have to walk through the wall between the platforms nine and ten." She informed, expecting some kind of question or reaction.

But, like he always did when magic was involved, James disappointed her. All he did was let out an _uh_.

The small thirteen years old pouted, "Seriously?" She muttered, "That's it?"

James snorted.

"Harry!"

At the sound of Neville's voice, Harry looked up. Beaming she started walking a little faster in direction of her friend who was waiting for her beside the barrier. His Grandmother was standing beside him, looking a little stiff and disapproving of the way her grandson was waving his hand with excitement.

Harry refrained from frowning at this and smiled instead.

"Hi, Neville. Hello, Mrs. Longbottom." Harry greeted the duo.

"Miss Potter." Mrs. Longbottom nodded her head, scanning their surroundings. "You're here alone?"

Neville's eyebrows twitched a little but aside from that, he didn't show any kind of reaction at the question. Although his expression did remind Harry if the one he had upon meeting James.

"Eh," Harry blinked. "Yes, ma'am. James stayed at home."

Neville seemed to relax a little and Harry heard James snort once more.

"I see," The old witch sounded… disappointed? What? "Well, let's go then." With that, Mrs. Longbottom straightened her back and walked through the barrier behind her.

Harry blinked once more before looking at Neville but her blonde haired friend shrugged with a strange expression on his face. The witch, knowing that he wasn't going to explain his Grandmother's strange behavior, strolled toward the barrier between her platforms nine and ten, pushing her trolley as she casually walked through the barrier with Neville doing the same beside her.

In less than a moment, the two of them found themselves in the platform nine and three-quarters, staring at the familiar Hogwarts Express; a scarlet steam engine, puffing smoke over the whole platform while witches and wizards saw their children onto the train.

They said good-bye to Mrs. Longbottom, who hadn't wasted time before telling Neville to behave and make his parents proud, the duo made their way into the train, walking past packed compartments until they found a empty one on the far back of the train. They placed their trucks on the floor and Neville helped Harry place Hedwig's empty cage in the luggage rack (Her familiar had already taken flight to the castle early that morning).

It wasn't until Harry's felt James gripping her shoulder that she noticed that the compartment her and Neville chose wasn't as empty as they assumed.

"Should we move?" Neville whispered as the chubby haired followed her line of sight to see a man sitting fast asleep next to the window.

He was curled up tightly, his old and brown cloak covering his legs. Hadn't it been for James, Harry would have completely overlooked him. The strange man had a very weak presence.

"I doubt time we'll find another compartment for ourselves," Harry replied, trying to not react when James's fingers tapped her shoulder in a familiar sequence (Their own code – After they moved to Rosewood's Mews, James had made a game which they only used signs to communicate. It had taken a long time for Harry to see that he had actually been training her instead of playing a innocent game).

_Move. Now. _– Was what Great-Uncle was telling her.

The thirteen years old ran a hand through her hair, moving her fingers discretely to assure him that everything would be fine. Her Great-Uncle gripped her shoulder tight in response, unhappy. But Harry didn't budge and, instead, sat down.

She was sure that the man wasn't dangerous.

The Hogwarts Express was usually reserved for students, with the only adults there being the driver and the witch who pushed the food cart, And, because of that, there were wards on the train that stopped anyone who was a danger to the students to board the train (To quote Hermione: _It said so on Hogwarts: A History_).

There was no need for James to worry about the man.

Actually, Harry deduced, the stranger was probably the new _Defense Against the Dark Arts _teachers. Nothing else could explain why he was there.

The small girl voiced her thoughts. Neville nodded but threw a look toward the man.

"He doesn't look like a teacher…"

Harry had to agree. The stranger was wearing extremely shabby clothes that had clearly been darned in several places and he looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with gray and there were silver scars all over his face and hands.

One would never look at him and think _teacher_.

Neville slid the door shut, taking the seats farthest away from the window. James pushed her not so gently to the side so she was sitting across Neville and then sat beside her.

There was a familiar click but Harry didn't react. She knew that was her Great-Uncle way to say _one wrong move and he's out_. Neville also didn't seen too happy with the stranger presence, his shoulders tense and baby-blue eyes staring at the curled wizard with suspicion.

To distract the duo, or at least Neville because she knew that James's paranoia would never permit such thing, Harry asked her friend of he wanted to play UNO with her. The chubby wizard looked confused at the mention of the Muggle game but agreed.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade, Harry?" Neville asked shyly after a few while. He only had two cards in hand while Harry had four.

The small witch bit her bottom lip, shoulders dropping. "I actually lost my form." She muttered. "I haven't seen it since Professor McGonagall send the form along our book list."

Not that she would have been able to get it signed. After all, although she was living with James and they were related, her Great-Uncle wasn't her legal guardian. Also, she doubted that Professor McGonagall would let her go to the village with Sirius Black around.

"W-We can talk to Professor McGonagall," Neville suggested.

Harry shook her hand with a sweet smile, "It's ok. I can always go next year."

Hopefully, by then, her ice-blue eyed companion would already be her official guardian.

A hand patted her head gently. Harry smiled widened a little. She was a bit disappointed with not being able to see Hogsmeade but at least James would be in the castle with her while everyone else was having fun.

"I'll bring you something," Neville promised in an attempt of making her feel better. "What would you like?"

"That's very sweet of you, Neville. Thank you." The witch said with a smile, giggled when her friend started sputtering and blushing. Beside her, James gave a low chuckle.

The blonde haired boy recovered soon enough and started explaining everything that he knew about Hogsmeade after Harry asked him about it.

Outside of the window, it was possible to see that Hogwarts Express was moving steadily north and that scenery became wilder and darker while the cloud got overhead thickened; it was going to rain. People were chasing backward and forward past the door of their compartment but, thankful, no one tried to enter.

Harry still didn't think that she would feel too comfortable with talking other students, especially any Gryffindor. Maybe later in the year, but after an year of almost complete isolation, she wasn't going to act like nothing happened.

Maybe it was petty and horrible of her part, but she wanted people to apologize to her properly instead of expecting her to just forgive them. If there was one thing that James drilled on her over the summer holidays was that she deserved better than the way people acted toward her and that if she didn't show a strong front (Even if she didn't feel like that) then things would never change.

At one o'clock, the old witch with the food cart arrived at the compartment door.

"Do you think we should wake him up?" Harry whispered at Neville, sending a look toward the still sleeping stranger. "He looks like he could eat something..."

Actually, the poor man looked like he hadn't had a good meal in a _long _time. That wasn't right. Harry knew how it felt to be hungry.

James's hand squeezed her shoulder to stop her from approaching the stranger while Neville hesitated for a moment, scowling slightly as he looked from her to the stranger. Like any Gryffindor though, her friend took a deep breath and stood up, approaching the stranger cautiously.

James hummed in approval.

"Er – Sir?" Neville called the man. "Excuse me? Sir?" The baby-blue eyed boy tried a few more times before shrugging with an odd look on his face.

The stranger hadn't as much as twitch. If he hadn't been breathing, Harry would have thought that he was dead.

"Don't worry, dear," The silver haired witch with the food cart said as she handed Harry a large stack of Cauldron Cakes as well two cans of tea. "If he's hungry when he wakes, I'll be up front with the driver."

As Neville sat down, he paid the witch against all of Harry's protests. The older witch smiled at the two friends and slid the compartment door closed soon after.

Harry threw her hands up when arguing with Neville showed itself to be futile. She smile when her friend snickered at her, opening his tea can with care. James also chuckled as he took the Cauldron Cake Harry passed him (The man was absolutely amused and approved of her friendship with Neville. Kid knew how to treat a dame, even if said dame got all flustered and embarrassed when someone did something nice for her – He shook his with an sigh, pursuing his lips; it wasn't right for her to be surprised when someone was nice to or for her).

Harry and Neville spoke about random topics until midafternoon, just as it had started to rain and the water blurred the rolling hills outside the window, they heard footsteps in the corridor again and someone actually slid the door open.

The raven haired witch bit her tongue when she saw that it was Draco Malfoy and his cronies; Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle.

Part of her had hoped that the bleached bully wouldn't have showed up but maybe that was asking too much.

"Well, look who it is," Malfoy said with his usual lazy drawl and a sneer on his pointed face. "Potty and the Squib."

There was nothing witty or funny about the name-calling but Crabbe and Goyle still chuckled trollishly.

Emerald green eyes narrowed at Malfoy when she noticed how Neville flinched at his words.

"Don't call him that. He's ten times better than you would ever be." Harry said in her friend's defense, her hand discretely clutching her Invisibility Cloak.

Malfoy eyed Neville with greyish-blue eyes, opening his mouth to say something before he stopped. Slowly, he turned to look at Harry with a shark-like grin.

"Say Scarhead, couldn't you find better friends after the Weasel and the Know-It-All abandoned you?"

Although the reminder stung a little, she merely stared at him with an unimpressed look. The Slytherin wasn't too happy with the lack of reaction and opened his mouth to speak when the stranger gave a snort.

That made Malfoy give an automatic step backwards, "Who's that?" The bleached blonde asked as he spotted the stranger.

"T-That's our new teacher," Neville said. Harry beamed at her friend, proud that he wasn't stuttering as much as he did when in Malfoy's presence.

"Were you saying something, Malfoy?" Harry asked the pale boy.

Malfoy's pale greyish-blue eyes narrowed. He liked a idiot sometimes but the boy was raised as a Slytherin, he knew better than to pick a fight right under a teacher's nose. A teacher who wasn't Snape that's it; the Potions Master would turn a blind eye to anything wrong that his Slytherins did, even murder, and then would blame the victims for what happened.

"C'mon," The Slytherin muttered to Crabbe and Goyle.

They left without another word.

Harry and Neville exchanged a look, grinning. It was also nice to see Malfoy's plans failing.

"Do you want to play something else?" Harry asked, reaching out for her trunk. She was pretty sure she had brought a few other games with her.

Her sweet Great-Uncle had actually brought a bunch of games for her after they moved to their rose-pink house. They played Monopoly together a lot (It was satisfying making James pay rent. The face he made was hilarious).

Neville perked up, curious, "Sure!"

While they played _Guess Who?_, the rain thickened as the train sped yet farther north; the windows were now a solid, shimmering gray, which gradually darkened until lanterns flickered into life all along the corridors and over the luggage racks. The train rattled, the rain hammered, the wind roared, but still, the stranger slept.

Harry was starting to wonder if the man was in coma. Or maybe he was faking it so he didn't need to interaction with them, which was fine.

The small witch raised her head when, suddenly, the train started to slow down.

"We're already there?" She asked, confused.

Neville shook his head as he took out his golden pocket watch, "No." He scowled, "It's still early."

"So why're we stopping?" Harry asked, not really expecting a answer.

The train was getting slower and slower. As the noise of the pistons fell away, the wind and rain sounded louder than ever against the windows.

Before Harry could move, Neville got up to look into the corridor. All along the carriage, heads were sticking curiously out of their compartments.

The train came to a stop with a jolt, and distant thuds and bangs told them that luggage had fallen out of the racks. Then, without warning, all the lamps went out and they were plunged into total darkness.

Harry immediately curled against James, biting her bottom lip. She hated the dark, hated not being able to see and know where she was going. It terrified her.

Her long haired Great-Uncle grasped her hand firmly.

"What's going on?" She hear Neville say and then there was the sound of the compartment's door closing.

"I don't know." Harry muttered nervously. She hoped that there was nothing wrong.

The compartment door opened and someone tripped over Harry's trunk because she could hear the person groaning.

"Who left this thing on the floor?"

The thirteen years old girl mentally sighed. That was Lee Jordan's voice which meant that – There was loudly sound of bodies colliding followed by three loud yells of pain.

"Who's on the floor of our compartment?" There was a echo of this particular voice.

Harry didn't need her eyes to know that Fred and George Weasley had joined Lee Jordan on the floor.

"That's _our _compartment." Neville spoke up.

"Get your fat hand out of face, Fred!"

"That's not _my _hand, George!"

"Ouch, ouch! Get off me you two idiots!"

Harry felt James move beside her and then she heard the twins' chocked yelp. If she had to guess, then she would say that her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle had just hurled them up by the collar of their cloaks.

"Who spoke early?" Lee asked.

Her friend replied, "Neville."

"Neville?" One of the twins repeated.

The other twin spoke (Or maybe it was the same twin, who knows), "What're you doing in our compartment?"

"It's _our_ compartment." Harry muttered, repeating Neville's reply from early. Maybe the twins hadn't heard it before.

She could _feel _the twins perking up as they spoke together, "Harrykins?"

"Yeah."

"Ouch!" Neville yelped, "My foot!"

"Sorry, mate." Lee said, "My bad."

"_Quiet!_" A hoarse voice hissed.

_Look_, Harry thought dryly as she heard movements from the corner, _he finally woke up!_

No one moved or spoke.

There was a soft, crackling noise, and a shivering light filled the compartment. The stranger appeared to be holding a handful of flames. They illuminated his tired, gray face, but his amber eyes looked alert and wary.

"Stay where you are," He said in the same hoarse voice, and he got slowly to his feet with his handful of fire held out in front of him. "I'll be right back."

Harry curled against James a little more, not really caring if someone noticed that there was actually a invisible person behind her. The air seemed colder somehow and she felt like there was something wrong. She wanted the reassurance her Great-Uncle's presence gave her.

James brought her close to his chest so she could hear his heartbeat.

The stranger handed the shivering flames to Lee, who had taken a seat next to Neville. He summoned more flames and left the compartment.

The twins sat beside Lee, more likely knowing that Harry won't really appreciate their presence next to her. For once, their usually mischievous face was somber as they shared uncertain looks.

Lee had handed his cloak to Neville who had started shivering. None of them made a single sound, waiting for the stranger to come back with explanations of what was happening.

Suddenly, the door slid slowly open.

It wasn't the stranger.

Standing in the doorway, illuminated by the shivering flames in Lee's hand, was a cloaked figure that towered to the ceiling. Its face was completely hidden beneath its hood. Harry's eyes darted downward, and what she saw made her flinch; there was a hand protruding from the cloak and it was glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water.

The hand was only visible for a split second, as if the creature beneath the cloak sensed Harry's eye on it, because it was suddenly withdrawn into the folds of the creature black cloak.

Then the thing beneath the hood, whatever it was, drew a long, slow, rattling breath, as though it were trying to suck something more than air from its surroundings.

Harry started shaking like a leaf and she could feel her heart skip a beat. It was cold, so _cold _– Not even James's arms around her helped. Harry couldn't think properly as her rolled up into her head; she couldn't see nor could she breath properly. Her ears were ringing and she felt as though all happiness and positive thoughts were leaving her, causing her to drown in nothing but pain and despair.

All she could hear were screams; pleading and blood curling screams filled with fear. Then –

"Uncle James," She pleaded, sobbed, over and over again. "Help me."

Then, there was only darkness.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 9. The First Day**

Harry woke up to find that she wasn't in the Hogwarts Express any longer. For a moment, she wondered where she was or how she had got there but she couldn't come up with a answer. Her whole body was aching and even with the pile blankets over her, she couldn't shivering; it was difficult to think properly like this.

Soon enough, the answers to her questions hit her; the memories, the hooded black creatures, the cold, the screams –

Emerald green eyes snapped open.

It was dark, probably past midnight and she was lying in the Hospital Wing. Harry didn't even bother to try and push herself out of the bed like she usually did and, instead, turned her head to the side.

James was sitting beside her bed, his eyes closed and posture straight. His arms were folded against his chest and her Invisibility Cloak had been thrown over another chair.

She had barely stared at him for a second before his ice-blue eyes opened, scanning the room in search of something before stopping on her.

"Hi," Harry said, lamely.

James let out a choked breath, throwing himself to the floor so he was kneeling beside her bed.

"Charis," James whispered, his voice holding no small amount of relief as he leaned forward to run a trembling hand through her hair. "_Charis._"

"Sorry," She muttered, feeling a little lost. The thirteen years old couldn't understand why he was so relieved.

"Why're you sorry, doll?" The long haired man grasped one of her hands, squeezing it. "It wasn't your fault. It was that _thing_." He spat before making a pause and taking a deep breath, as if trying to stay calm and not start screaming and ranting like the mother hen both of them knew he was.

Harry closed her eyes for a moment, trying to banish the screams that started to echo on the back of her mind. Sighing, she opened her eyes once more to look at James, biting her bottom lip as she did so.

"What… Do you know what were those things?" She whispered.

Harry really didn't want to know but part of her told her that she had to ask.

Ice-blue eyes flashed with poor concealed rage as his nostrils flared, "Dementors." James replied. "They were the monsters the quartet had spoken about."

The guards of Azkaban, her mind whispered. Harry shivered as she recalled Ulric's words about how those creatures sucked a person's soul out of their body as well how they took away a person's happiness and positive thoughts and only left their despair and sadness.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, worried about James.

If there was anyone who would be greatly affected by those hooded creatures, then it would be him.

Her Great-Uncle gave her an soft but exasperated look, shaking his head with a sigh, "Oh doll," James muttered. "I'm fine – I was fine then as well." The _It's you who wasn't _was left unsaid but both of them heard it. "The Cloak hide me from them." He said after a moment, glancing at said Cloak by the corner of his eyes. "I was the only one in the compartment who wasn't being affected by those things."

Harry smiled sweetly, "I'm glad."

It was good to know that her Invisibility Cloak could hide the user from the Dementors. That would give James protection against them.

James scoffed, lips twitching up a little as he patted her head, "I had wanted to shoot those things when you called for me. God, doll, I had never felt more hopeless than at that moment." He said, closing his eyes as if in pain.

"Did you?" The green-eyed girl asked, trying to distract him. She knew that there was nothing that she could say or do to make him feel better.

He opened his eyes to look at her once more.

"Did you shoot them?" She asked.

The ice-blue eyed man pursued his lips, "There was no time." He said. "Lupin showed up and used some kind of magic on them, scaring the Dementors away. He didn't leave after that so I ended up staying under the Cloak."

Harry knitted her brows in confusion, "…Lupin who?"

She didn't remember anyone at the school called Lupin.

Contrary to what one may assume from the size of the castle, there weren't all that many students at Hogwarts at the moment; everyone knew everyone even if by nickname.

"Remus Lupin," He clarified. "The man in the compartment."

"_Oh_," She stiffed a yawn, blinking her eyes. "He's already more useful than the last two Defense teachers we had." Harry mumbled.

"We'll see," James said, tucking a strand of hair out of her face.

He said something else but Harry was far too tired. She feel asleep before she even knew what was happening, as if her body had decided to shut down.

When she woke up again, it was to see Poppy Pomfrey hovering over her.

"I had hoped you would only end up here _after_ your first Quidditch match this year." The Matron said, giving her a _look_ as she leaned to check Harry's eyes and waving her wand to cast diagnostic spells on the girl.

"But Poppy," Harry smiled a little, batting her eyelashes, "I missed you so much that I had to come to see you."

"Uh huh," Poppy hummed dryly, moving to grab a glass of water as well the small girl's glasses from the bedside table and handed it to Harry after the girl pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"So," Harry said, drinking the water while pushing her glasses on her face. "What's the verdict? Bed rest? Should I stay in this bed for a few days?"

Absent mindedly, Harry wondered where James was. She was sure that he would have patted her head by now if he was in the Hospital Wing.

"You're fine now." Poppy took the now empty glass from her, grumbling under her breath. "Honestly, setting _Dementors_ around a school. The Minister is mad."

At the tone of the woman's voice, Harry scanned the Hospital Wing. All the other beds were empty though.

"Did anyone else faint?" The small witch asked the older, motherly looking woman.

"No. But, to put it lightly, many ended feeling bad in those things' presence." Poppy said with an dark look on her face. "They stayed here for a few hours and then left for the feast."

At the mention of food, Harry's stomach growled (There was no other way to explain the sound it made). Poppy's lips twitched up with amusement but the Matron refused to smile.

"Did I miss breakfast?" The thirteen years old asked.

It was clearly early in the morning and she could remember talking to James last night, which meant that she had missed the Welcoming Feast. Hopeful, the same couldn't be said about the breakfast; she was really hungry.

"No, you didn't." Poppy replied before resting her hands on her hips and fixing the raven haired girl with a stern look. "You may go, but do try to stay away from her for at least a month."

"I'll try." The thirteen years old witch promised.

The Matron rolled her eyes good-naturally, "That's all ask."

Poppy then watched her jump from the bed, moving to take her uniform and wand from the bedside table. Just as Harry was walking to the bedroom inside the Hospital Wing so she could take a shower and change from the pajamas she was wearing, the Matron spoke once more.

"Also, Minerva asked me to inform you that the password is _Fortuna Major_."

"Thanks Poppy!" Harry sent her a smile over her shoulder.

Ten minutes later, Harry found herself streaming up marble staircase and then walking along a maze of corridors, which were followed by more corridors, up more and more stairs, before _finally _reaching the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. She would have left to breakfast already but Harry needed to get her messenger bag first; all her books and writing supplies were there.

She stopped in front of a large portrait of a blonde haired fat lady in a pink silk dress. The woman looked at her, "Ah, look who decided to show up."

Harry sighed. If she replied, the Fat Lady would just keep talking. It was better to ignore her.

"Fortuna Major." The girl said, ignoring the Fat Lady's indignant huff.

The portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. Harry all scrambled through it and stopped when she found herself in the Gryffindor common room; a cozy, round red room full of squashy armchairs, couches and a welcoming fire.

Harry gasped when she saw a familiar figure sitting by the fire with a book in his hands.

"James!" She hissed, running toward the man as his head snapped in her direction.

He placed the book aside, standing up just in time to catch her as she threw herself at him.

"What're you doing? Someone is going to see you!" The witch said, worried.

"Don't worry, doll." He hugged her close, looking down at her. "Everyone has already left for breakfast."

Harry relaxed, shoulders dropping as she sighed with relief, "That's good." Green eyes then flicked around the common room. "How did you enter anyway?"

He must have stayed with her at the Hospital Wing until later so how had gotten the password?

"The red-haired twins," James explained, ice-blue eyes narrowing with suspicion. "They came to me at the Hospital Wing and asked if I was your Uncle James." Harry's eyes widened but she didn't say anything as he continued. "I don't know how those kids even knew who and where I was but they did." The long haired man scowled. "I confirmed my status as your Uncle and didn't say anything else, waiting for what they were going to do."

"And what did they do?" Harry asked.

"That's what bothers me." He replied. "They exchanged a look and then told me the password and how I could find your Common Room. The twins left after that."

The thirteen years old girl looked down at her feet.

The Weasley Twins had always known more than they should. Actually, it was an open secret at Hogwarts that they knew every single corner of the castle like the back of their hands. So, honestly, she didn't find the fact that they knew about James or where he was all that surprising.

Harry, however, had no idea of what to think about them knowing about her Great-Uncle presence in the castle. Would they use this information somehow? They hadn't pranked her or anything last year, but they had also looked away and did nothing every time they saw her being bullied.

"I was thinking of talking to them." James informed her, causing Harry to look up, "I can find out what they want and why they hadn't told anyone about me yet."

The green-eyed girl gave him a _look_.

The long haired man kissed her forehead and smiled charmingly, "We'll just talk."

"_Right_," Harry said dryly before shaking her head, "I'll get my things so we can head to breakfast."

James let her go with a nod and reached out to grab her Invisibility Cloak, which he had left on the coffee table beside the armchair he had been using. Meanwhile, Harry walked across the common room and made her way up the spiral staircase until her familiar, circular dormitory with its six four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains; each bed having a bookshelf, a closet and a desk. Harry found her messenger bag over her chair and glanced next to her bed to find her trunk before she made her way out of the dormitory.

Soon after that, Harry and James (Who was hidden under her Invisibility Cloak) entered the Great Hall for breakfast.

Harry, with her Great-Uncle's hand over her shoulder, set off toward the Gryffindor table. She kept her head high, even though she really wanted to hunch her shoulders and disappear as people looked around at her.

"Don't show how uncomfortable their looks makes you, doll." James whispered. "Don't give them this satisfaction."

She nodded discretely, taking a deep breath.

Draco Malfoy, who had been entertaining a large group of Slytherins with what seemed to be a very funny story, didn't take long to notice her. With a malicious glint in his greyish-blue eyes, Malfoy did a ridiculous impression of a swooning fit, causing his friends to laugh not so quietly.

The small ignored him but couldn't help but worry a little when she could no longer feel James's hand on her shoulder.

Where had he gone?

"Hey, Potter!" Pansy Parkinson, a paper pale Slytherin girl with dark hair and a face like a pug, shrieked, "Potter! Look! The Dementors are coming!"

Her, Malfoy, Grabbe and Goyle pulled the hood of the robes and wiggled their fingers as they said, "_Woooooooo!_"

Pursuing her lips, Harry dropped into the seat next to Neville at the far end of the Gryffindor table, leaving enough space for James.

"Morning, Harry." The baby-blue eyed boy whispered, glaring at the Slytherins over his shoulder before handed a sheet of parchment to her. "Your schedule," He said.

"Thank you Neville." Harry smiled as she accepted her class schedule.

Just as Harry was going to examine her new schedule, she heard screams. Her head whipped around upon hearing the entire Great Hall laughing.

She closed her mouth, snickering when the small witch saw that someone had actually thrown food all over Draco Malfoy and his followers. The quartet had eggs, jam, tomatoes and juice from head down. It was hilarious, especially as Malfoy wailed louder than Parkinson, clutching his hair with pure agony.

"Who did this?!" The bleached blonde screamed, "I swear that when my father hear about this –"

Harry quickly looked away from him before the boy decided to blame her, shoulders shaking as she tried to not burst out laughing.

"What a diva," James's voice spoke from her right.

Harry grinned, sending a look in his direction.

"Was that you?" She mouthed.

"Maybe." It had been him; he sounded far too smug for this whole thing to not have been his fault.

Harry giggled.

It took a while for everyone to calm down. And _that _only happened ten or so minutes after Malfoy and the others left the Great Hall. Harry and Neville ate their breakfast while speaking in rushed tones about their schedules.

"Hey Hermione," Ron Weasley said loudly, making the duo turn to look at him. The red haired boy was frowning as he looked over the bushy haired witch's shoulder, "they've messed up your schedule. Look, they've got you down for about nine subjects a day. There isn't enough time."

Green eyes blinked before she and Neville exchanged looks of disbelief. They weren't the only ones.

Hermione Granger gave the boy a look that was just a little bit superior, "I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," Ron laughed a little, "see this morning? Nine o'clock, Divination. And" Ron leaned closer to the schedule, arching his eyebrows, "look, underneath it is Arithmancy, nine o'clock. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's that good. How're you supposed to be in two classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," Hermione said shortly. "Of course I won't be in two classes at once."

"Well, then –"

"Pass the marmalade," Hermione cut him off.

Ron stared, "But –"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" The older girl snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"Fine," The blue eyed boy snapped back. "See if I care!"

"I wonder how she's going to all those classes?" Neville whispered as they looked away from the duo.

Harry shrugged.

Everyone knew that in their Year, Hermione was Professor McGonagall's favorite. It won't be all that surprising to Harry if the woman had actually bent a few rules so the girl would have a way of going to all those classes at the same time.

"What I want to know is why she's taking Divination," Harry muttered, a little confused. "She's lives and breaths everything that is logic."

Neville nodded with an thoughtful expression.

There was a tap on her shoulder and Harry felt it as James grabbed her wrist. Looking down, she noticed that he wanted her to check her wrist watch.

They had ten minutes until their first class of the say started.

"Come on Neville," Harry said, standing up. "We better go if we don't want to be late."

She ignored how Ron and Hermione turned to stare at her. Neville grabbed a toast as well as his bag and followed her out of the hall.

Divination wasat the top of North Tower while the Arithmancy's classroom was on the way there (Classroom 6-A). Thankful, Harry had explored the castle a lot last year so she knew how to get there. Hadn't it been for that, she knew that she and Neville would have been completely lost as theyjourneyed through the castle.

"You just follow this corridor and then turn right." Harry said when they reached her classroom, writing down her instructions for Neville. "After that you will see a portrait of a group of Greek woman – Go up the stairs next to it and follow the corridor until you see a circular trapdoor with a brass plaque on it. Ask for entrance and you'll reach the Divination classroom."

Neville nodded seriously, clutching the sheet of parchment when she handed it to him.

"Thank you, Harry!" He smiled, "I'll see you in Transfiguration!"

The green-eyed girl waved at him with a smile. She waited until she could no longer see the baby-blue eyed boy before looking around.

"Say James," The raven haired girl said. "Are you staying for my lesson?"

He patted her head, "Not now." James said, lowering the hood of the Invisibility Cloak so she could see him, "I want to explore the castle a little."

Harry felt a little disappointed but she could understand why he would want to explore the castle.

"Ok," She pouted. "See you later then."

With a smile, James kissed her forehead and left, pulling the Cloak's hood up and disappearing from view.

Sighing, Harry opened the door of the classroom to find a large room that looked more like a big homey sitting room than a real classroom. There were at least twenty small tables around the room which were surrounded by comfortable, squishy armchairs. The room was lit by floating crystal orbs – Although the extra illumination was unnecessary since there was a lot of natural light coming from the high windows. The walls were filled with posters and the few bookshelves on the corner of the room were crammed with tick and old looking books as well several trinkets.

Harry looked around.

There were several Huffepuffs in the room but almost no Gryffindors (Actually, aside from her and Hermione, there was only Fay Dunbar in the room). If there were so few Gryffindors in this class, Harry wondered how many had decided to take Ancient Runes.

Shaking her head, Harry walked to a empty table in the back of the room, ignoring all looks the Hufflepuffs and Hermione were sending in her direction.

"Good Morning, class." Professor Vector said as she entered the room moments later, the door closing behind her.

She was a tall, slim woman wearing fitting crimson red robes and high-heeled boots. Her black hair was held up by a red ribbon and she was wearing large crimson earrings.

For a moment, Harry wondered if she hadn't been a Gryffindor when she had been a Hogwarts student.

"Good Morning," Some of the students replied.

The fairly young black haired woman didn't seen all that bothered by the lack of enthusiasm and moved to write something on the blackboard.

Harry rested her chin against the palm of her hands as she observed the brown eyed witch.

_Numerology X Arithmancy_

Professor Vector turned to look at them before sitting behind her desk and leaning against her chair and staring at them with a deadpan, if not bored, expression. She seemed… interesting? Definitely different from all the other teachers.

"Who can tell me the difference between those two?" Professor Vector asked.

Hermione's hand immediately flew up. Harry also held her hand up, although slowly, as did Ernie McMillan, a pompous blonde haired Hufflepuff.

"Miss Potter." Professor Vector nodded at her.

Hermione looked insulted and just a little incredulous at not having called to answer the Professor's question.

"Numerology is the study of the mystical relationship between numbers and the character or action of physical objects and living things." Harry said trying to recall what she had read about the subject over the summer holidays. "Arithmancy is divination using numbers that are the equivalent of letters of a name."

Vector lips twitched up, "Very good."

The green-eyed girl resisted the urge of rolling her eyes when she noticed Hermione glaring at her. The bushy haired girl hated it when people showed that they could be as smart or smarter than her.

_Too bad for you_, Harry thought, _I'll get the best grades I can._

The small girl really wanted to make her Great-Uncle proud of her achievements.

"Now, give me examples of both subjects." Professor Vector said.

Harry stopped to think about it.

"Er – For Arithmancy… Well, the Greeks examined the number and value of the letters in the names of two combatants, and predicted that the one whose name contained more letters, or letters of the greatest value, would be the victor…" She knitted her brows for a moment, "Hum… For Numerology… It can be used in the creation of a wards or even in the preparation of Potions ingredients."

"Twenty Points to Gryffindor," Professor Vector said, pointing at her. "You're very right, Miss Potter." The older witch scanned the room before she continued, "Despite the name of this subject, I'll be teaching you both Numerology and Arithmancy."

Some of the students started whispering, curious to learn more. Professor Vector waited until the whispers ceased before she went on.

"We'll be starting with a brief history lesson." The brown eyed woman snapped her fingers. The white chalk she had used to write on the board moved on its own.

Harry blinked, immediately recognizing the words the chalk wrote on the board.

_Number rules the universe._

_Number is the within of all things._

_Number is the ruler of forms and ideas,_

_and the cause of gods and demons._

Wasn't that Pythagoras? Harry was pretty sure she had seen this very briefly in Muggle School.

"Modern numerology," Harry immediately reached out for her quill and parchment as the Professor started speaking, "often called _'Pythagorean'_,is a very streamlined version of the teachings of Pythagoras, who learned the power of numbers while studying mathematics and mysticism with the people of ancient Chaldea. Though the practice of number divination has been recorded in various early civilizations from China to Egypt, the Chaldeans were particularly renowned for their knowledge of the subject…"

And the lesson went on.

It was, as Professor Vector herself said, a brief history lesson. The older witch told them about Pythagoras and the school of magic he had founded in Crotona in 529 BC shortly after Chaldea fell to the Persian dynasty as well what was taught by that school. By the end of the lesson, Harry had filled more than ten pages with notes.

It was a very interesting subject, especially as it saw numbers not as mere passive digits representing amounts in formulas and equations, but as living forces with profound spiritual significance; humming with the music of the universe.

Before Harry left for Transfiguration, Professor Vector asked them to write an essay about the Pythagoras' beliefs. And, funny enough, she threatened to _burn _Hermione's essay if the girl tried to write more than what she had asked for ("I have heard _horror stories _about you and your work, Miss Granger.").

Hermione's face had been priceless. Harry didn't think she had ever seen the older girl look so terrified of a teacher.

Giggling to herself, Harry left the classroom and set off for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration lesson.

It didn't take long for her to reach the classroom. Neville was already there, looking a little pale and trembling slightly. At this, Harry frowned, taking a seat next to her friend and grasping his shoulder. At her touch, he jumped, absolutely terrified.

"What's wrong?" Harry whispered, noticing how the rest of the class kept shooting furtive glances at him, as though he were about to drop dead at any moment.

Neville shook his head.

She gave him a worried look before turning to look at Professor McGonagall as she told them about Animagi (wizards who could transform at will into animals) before she transformed herself in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

Despite how interesting the lesson was, Harry barely paid attention to it. She kept focusing her attention on poor Neville.

Had something happened in Divination?

"Really, what has got into you all today?" Professor McGonagall asked, turning back into herself with a faint _pop_, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation didn't get a round of applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Neville again, but nobody spoke. The poor blonde haired boy kept shaking.

Hermione raised her hand, "Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading the tea leaves, and –"

Harry eyed the other girl.

So she was in Divination at the same time as Arithmancy? Harry arched her eyebrow, wondering how such thing was possible.

"Ah, of course," Professor McGonagall cut her off, scowling. "There is no need to say any more, Miss Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her while Neville raised a trembling hand.

"I see," Professor McGonagall sighed, fixing Neville with a look, "Then you should know, Longbottom, that Sibyll Trelawney has predicted the death of one student a year since she arrived at this school. None of them has died yet. Seeing death omens is her favorite way of greeting a new class. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues –"

Professor McGonagall broke off, her nostrils going white before she went on, much more calmly.

"Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney –" She stopped again, and then said, in a very matter-of-fact tone, "You look in excellent health to me, Longbottom, so you will excuse me if I don't let you off homework today. I assure you that if you die, you need not hand it in."

Harry snorted, patting her friend's shoulder when he finally relaxed. He sent her a small smile.

"Better?" She whispered.

Neville nodded, "Maybe I should move to Arithmancy…" He muttered, "I don't want to have to deal with Professor Trelawney again…" The blonde looked a little sick, "I can survive Gran's wrath if that means no one will keep predicating my death…"

Harry never got the chance to reply as Professor McGonagall continued the lesson. Everyone turned their attention back to her. Although Harry did hear Lavander Brown muttering something about tea cups and bunnies. Not that she stopped to think about it.

* * *

Harry smiled as she walked out of the castle after lunch, feeling James's hand over her head. She had missed him.

Yesterday's rain had cleared; the sky was a clear, pale gray, and the grass was springy and damp underfoot as the students set off for their first ever _Care of Magical Creatures_ class.

While she and Neville (as well James, although he was hidden) walked down the sloping laws to Hagrid's hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, the small thirteen years old witch noticed Ron and Hermione following them with frown on their faces.

Harry sighed, wondering when they would stop staring at her. It was not only uncomfortable but also irritating.

Her mood didn't get better when she spotted three too familiar backs ahead of them; it was Malfoy and his group. Unfortunately, it looked like the Gryffindors would be sharing this lesson with the Slytherins.

The greyish-blue eyed boy was talking animatedly to Crabbe and Goyle, who were chortling like the trolls they were.

"I was hoping he won't be here," Neville muttered looking at Malfoy.

Harry pressed her lips together, "You and me both." She decided to think of something else and asked, "Who'll be teaching this class anyway?"

Neville blinked, looking at her with confusion before he seemed to recall something.

"Oh, yeah – You weren't at the Welcoming Feast." Hs smiled a little, "It's Hagrid."

Emerald green eyes blinked with surprised, "_Really?_"

The chubby boy nodded.

Uh, Harry didn't expect this. Hagrid was a great guy but she had never imagined him as a teacher. Most of the creatures he liked to work with weren't all that safe around thirteen years old children.

She frowned, sending a worried look at Malfoy's back. Knowing the bleached blonde, he would try to get Hagrid fired. She would have to keep an eye on him.

Hagrid was waiting for his class at the door of his hut. He stood in his moleskin overcoat, with his boarhound Fang at his heels. The Half-Giant tugged with his tie, looking impatient to start.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" Hagrid called as the class approached. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

Harry and Neville exchanged a look, silently hoping that Hagrid won't take them all to the forest.

Thankfully, the Half-Giant strolled off around the edge of the trees, and five minutes later, they found themselves outside a kind of paddock.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" he called. "That's – make sure yeh can see – now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open yer books –"

Harry heard James snorting. She, on the other hand, looked down at her copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. That was the only book she had.

The one Hagrid had sent to her was now buried in the Dursleys's back garden. Apparently, not even magical books could survive a bullet wound.

"How?" Malfoy said with his drawling voice.

"Eh?" Hagrid blinked.

"How do we open our books?" Malfoy repeated. He took out his copy of _The Monster Book of Monsters_, which he had bound shut with a length of rope.

Other people took theirs out too; some, like Neville, had belted their book shut while others had crammed them inside tight bags or clamped them together with binder clips.

"Hasn' — hasn' anyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid, looked absolutely crestfallen.

Harry fought back the urge of patting his hand. She didn't want to be noticed by the Half-Giant. If he was crestfallen now, then he would be heartbroken when he heard that Harry's copy of the _Monster Book of Monsters _had been killed after it tried to eat her.

"Yeh've got ter stroke 'em," Hagrid said, as though this was the most obvious thing in the world. "Look –"

He took Hermione's copy and ripped off the Spellotape that bound it. The book tried to bite, but Hagrid ran a giant forefinger down its spine, and the book shivered before it fell open and lay quiet in his hand.

James hummed. Harry could practically picture him arching his eyebrow.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" Malfoy sneered. "We should have stroked them! Why didn't we guess!"

Harry hated to even think about this but she agreed a little with Malfoy. If Hagrid wanted them to get a book like that, then he should have placed an warning in the their book list or something.

This lack of information was just a point against him.

_And Malfoy will be more than happy to use it to his advantage_, she thought, pursing her lips.

"I-I thought they were funny," Hagrid said uncertainly.

"Oh, tremendously funny!" Malfoy said. "Really witty, giving us books that try and rip our ha –" Before he could keep talking the pale boy fell forward, face landing on mud.

The whole class roared with laughter.

Harry lowered her head, grinning widely, "Nice one." She whispered.

"He was starting to annoy me." James replied, amused.

Malfoy threw a fit but, unfortunately, he didn't leave. Instead, he shut up and kept using his robes sleeves to clean his face while muttering about his father.

"Er – Righ' then," Hagrid cleared his throat, "so – so yeh've got yer books an' – an' – now yeh need the Magical Creatures. Yeah. So I'll go an' get 'em. Hang on…"

He strode away from them into the forest and out of sight. Harry clasped her hands together, looking up at the sky as she prayed – begged to any and gods out there that the Half-Giant won't end up bringing some kind of man-eating creature.

"I never thought you were religious, Harry." Neville commented, amused.

Harry smiled, "I'm not. But it doesn't hurt to call for help or guidance sometimes."

"God, this place is going to the dogs," Malfoy said loudly. "That oaf teaching classes, my father'll have a fit when I tell him –"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said, tiredly. His voice was starting to give her a headache.

He sneered at her, "Careful, Potter, there's a Dementor behind you –"

He was pushed on the ground once more, being forced to eat mud as his face was once again buried into it.

_Thanks Uncle James_, Harry shared a grin with Neville.

This wasn't Malfoy's day.

"Oooooooh!" Lavender Brown squealed, pointing toward the opposite side of the paddock.

Turning around, Harry saw at least a dozen of the most bizarre but still beautiful creatures she had ever seen. They had the bodies, hind legs, and tails of horses, but the front legs, wings, and heads of what seemed to be giant eagles, with steel-colored beaks and large, brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking. Each of the beasts had a thick leather collar around its neck, which was attached to a long chain, and the ends of all of these were held in the vast hands of Hagrid, who came jogging into the paddock behind the creatures.

"Are those Griffins?" James asked, placing his arm around her.

Harry shook her head in response. She was pretty sure they weren't.

"Gee up, there!" Hagrid roared, shaking the chains and urging the creatures toward the fence where the class stood.

Everyone backed away slightly as Hagrid reached them and tethered the creatures to the fence.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren' they?"

Both Harry and James hummed in agreement. The hippogriffs were truly beautiful and unique creatures with their gleaming coats, changing smoothly from feather to hair, each of them a different color: stormy gray, bronze, pinkish roan, gleaming chestnut, and inky black.

"So," Hagrid rubbed his hands together and beamed around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer –"

No one moved. After a moment, Harry approached the fence cautiously. She wanted this lesson to go well, at least for Hagrid. So she would do her best to cooperate.

"Now, firs' thing yeh gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," Hagrid explained. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

But, _of course_, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle weren't listening. The trio of Slytherins were talking in an undertone and Harry had eyed them with suspicion; something told her that they were plotting.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter make the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeh walk toward him, and yeh bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt. Now — who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away at this. Harry rolled her eyes, pouting at Neville when she found herself to be the only one willing to approach the hippogriffs. Her friend gave her a apologetic smile.

Her Great-Uncle placed a hand over her shoulder, fingers moving quickly: _I'll follow_, he said.

With this Harry climbed over the paddock fence.

"Good girl, Harry!" Hagrid practically roared. He was ecstatic. "Right then, let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

The Half-Giant untied one of the chains and pulled the only gray hippogriff away from the others before slipping off its leather collar. The other students on the other side of the paddock seemed to be holding their breath. Malfoy's eyes were narrowed maliciously while Neville seemed to be praying for her survival.

_Thanks for the vote of confidence Nev_, Harry thought with humor.

"Easy, now, Harry," Hagrid said quietly as she moved to stand in front of the hippogriff. "Yeh've got eye contact, now try not ter blink… Hippogriffs don' trust yeh if yeh blink too much…"

Harry and Buckbeak stared at each other, none of them wanting to lose their battle of wills and ended up blinking first.

"Tha's it," Hagrid said, making a motion with his hands. "Tha's it, Harry… now, bow…"

Harry gave the creature a courtesy and then looked up. The hippogriff was still staring haughtily at her. It didn't move.

Oh, well – She tried.

"Ah," Hagrid didn't even try to mask his worry. "Right – back away, now, Harry, easy does it –"

He cut himself off as the hippogriff suddenly bent its scaly front knees and sank into what was an unmistakable bow.

Hagrid started clapping, "Well done, Harry! Yeh can touch him now! Pat his beak, go on!"

Harry hesitated for a moment, waiting until she felt her Great-Uncle's presence next to her before doing so. She patted the beak several times and the hippogriff actually closed its eyes lazily, as though enjoying it. It was rather cute.

The class broke into applause, all except for Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle, who were looking deeply disappointed.

"Righ' then, Harry," Hagrid announced. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him!"

"Definitely not." James hissed. "Patting the creature is fine, but no flying! Don't you dare, Charis."

Harry smiled nervously at Hagrid. She knew better than to argue with the ice-blue eyed man when he was using that tone of voice.

"Maybe another time," The small girl said, trying to think of an excuse. "I'm not feeling too well to fly right now."

Hagrid looked disappointed but smiled at her, "Very well!" He said, looking back at the rest if the class, "Who wants ter try?"

Encouraged by Harry's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock while Hagrid untied the hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously, all over the paddock.

Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees, while looking at her for assurance which Harry was more than happy to give to her friend.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking disdainful.

Seeing this, Harry moved close to them. Putting some of the things her Great-Uncle taught to her over the summer to reach the trio without them noticing.

"This is very easy," Malfoy drawled. "I knew it must have been, if Potter could do it… I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you?" He mocked the hippogriff. "Are you, you great ugly brute?"

Buckbeak's eyes flashed and he raised its talons. Harry acted, pushing Malfoy out of the way as he let out a high-pitched scream worth of any little girl. The small girl was thrown on the floor and she heard James cursed in Russian as well in English as he kneeled next to her, placing his hands where blood was blossoming over her robes.

_Poppy is going to kill me_, Harry sighed, wincing in pain.

James cursed a little more.

She winced once more. This time though, it wasn't from pain.

_Forget Poppy, _Harry mourned, _Uncle James is going to murder me after he is finished with feeding Malfoy to the Giant Squid._

At least she had been able to mess with whatever plan Malfoy had coined to get Hagrid fired.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**

**BONUS!**

**TIMETABLE**

**Student Name: **_Charis Aster Potter_

**House: **_Gryffindor_

**Year: **_Third Year_

**Monday**

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 10:00 AM: **_Herbology _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**10:00 AM – 11:00 AM: **_Herbology _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**11:00 AM – 11:15 AM: **_Break_

**11:15 AM – 12:15 PM: **_History of Magic_

**12:15 PM – 13:15 PM: **_Lunch_

**13:15 PM – 14:15 PM: **_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

**14:15 PM – 15:15 PM: **_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

**15:15 PM – 15:30 PM: **_Break_

**15:30 PM – 16:30 PM: **_Charms_

**16:30 PM – 17:30 PM: **_Charms_

**17:30 PM – 18:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**18:00 PM – 19:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**19:00 PM – 20:00 PM: **_Dinner_

**12:00 AM – 01:00 AM: **_Astronomy _**(**All Houses**)**

**Tuesday **

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 10:00 AM: **_Arithmancy _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**10:00 AM – 11:00 AM: **_Transfiguration_

**11:00 AM – 11:15 AM: **_Break_

**11:15 AM – 12:15 PM: **_Transfiguration_

**12:15 PM – 13:15 PM: **_Lunch_

**13:15 PM – 14:15 PM: **_Care of Magical Creatures _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**14:15 PM – 15:15 PM: **_Care of Magical Creatures _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**15:15 PM – 15:30 PM: **_Break_

**15:30 PM – 16:30 PM: **_Herbology _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**16:30 PM – 17:30 PM: **_History of Magic_

**17:30 PM – 18:00 PM: **_History of Magic_

**18:00 PM – 19:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**19:00 PM – 20:00 PM: **_Dinner_

**20:00 PM: **_Curfew _**(**First to Fourth Years**)**

**Wednesday **

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 10:00 AM: **_Charms_

**10:00 AM – 11:00 AM: **_Charms_

**11:00 AM – 11:15 AM: **_Break_

**11:15 AM – 12:15 PM: **_Ancient Runes _**(**with Ravenclaw**)**

**12:15 PM – 01:15 PM: **_Lunch_

**01:15 PM – 02:15 PM: **_Transfiguration_

**14:15 PM – 15:15 PM: **_Transfiguration_

**15:15 PM – 15:30 PM: **_Break_

**15:30 PM – 16:30 PM: **_Arithmamcy _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**16:30 PM – 17:30 PM: **_Arithmamcy _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**17:30 PM – 18:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**18:00 PM – 19:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**19:00 PM – 20:00 PM: **_Dinner_

**12:00 AM – 01:00 AM: **_Astronomy _**(**All Houses**)**

**Thursday **

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 10:00 AM: **_Potions _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**10:00 AM – 11:00 AM: **_Potions _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**11:00 AM – 11:15 AM: **_Break_

**11:15 AM – 12:15 PM: **_Herbology _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**12:15 PM – 13:15 PM: **_Lunch_

**13:15 PM – 14:15 PM: **_Ancient Runes _**(**with Ravenclaw**)**

**14:15 PM – 15:15 PM: **_Ancient Runes _**(**with Ravenclaw**)**

**15:15 PM – 15:30 PM: **_Break_

**15:30 PM – 16:30 PM: **_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

**16:30 PM – 17:30 PM: **_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

**17:30 PM – 18:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**18:00 PM – 19:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**19:00 PM – 20:00 PM: **_Dinner_

**12:00 AM – 01:00 AM: **_Astronomy _**(**All Houses**)**

**Friday**

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 10:00 AM: **_Care of Magical Creatures _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**10:00 AM – 11:00 AM: **_Care of Magical Creatures _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**11:00 AM – 11:15 AM: **_Break_

**11:15 AM – 12:15 PM: **_History of Magic_

**12:15 PM – 13:15 PM: **_Lunch_

**13:15 PM – 14:15 PM: **_Potions _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**14:15 PM – 15:15 PM: **_Potions _**(**with Slytherin**)**

**15:15 PM – 15:30 PM: **_Break_

**15:30 PM – 16:30 PM: **_Arithmancy _**(**with Hufflepuff**)**

**16:30 PM – 17:30 PM: **_Ancient Runes _**(**with Ravenclaw**)**

**17:30 PM – 18:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**18:00 PM – 19:00 PM: **_Free Time_

**19:00 PM – 20:00 PM: **_Dinner_

**12:00 AM – 01:00 AM: **_Astronomy _**(**All Houses**)**


	10. Chapter 10

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 10. Maps and Boggarts**

"I told you to not come back to my domain until after your first Quidditch match!"

"Ouch, ouch!" Harry yelped, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Her words didn't matter to Poppy. The older witch pulled her ear a little more, twisting it for a bit longer before letting the girl go.

Teary eyed, Harry rubbed her ear and said, "It wasn't my fault."

"And my name's Morgana Le Fay." Poppy gave her _look_, handing a vial with red potion to the small girl. "Now, drink your Potion."

The thirteen years old stared, immediately recognizing it. That was the Potion Poppy liked to give to her worst patients. Oh, don't get her wrong. The Potion worked just fine; closing wounds and repairing any kind of internal bleeding. But it tasted like dirty socks mixed with spoiled milk.

"Can't you use a spell?" Harry pleaded, pressing her hand against the wound on her side.

The thirteen years old knew very well that there was a spell for to deal with this kind of wound. There was no need for the Potion. Poppy was just being mean.

"Drink your Potion, Miss Potter." Poppy repeated dangerously.

"_Now_." Her Great-Uncle hissed from beside her.

Grimacing, Harry obeyed and drank the Potion in one go. The girl shuddered before handing the vial back to Poppy. With a hint of green on her face, she leaned back against the pillows on what could very well be called her bed by now (She always used the same bed when she ended in the Hospital Wing).

"I think I'm going to be sick." The raven haired witch moaned.

Poppy nodded, "Good, it means the Potion is working. I'll back to check on you in two hours." The woman's honey brown eyes narrowed dangerously, "Don't try to escape."

Harry wanted to laugh. As if escaping was possible with James there. The ice-blue eyed man won't let her get out of that man.

The long haired man under her Invisibility Cloak waited until Poppy left before he pulled the hood down and took off the fabric. Harry stared at her hands as he sat beside her, crossing his arms and staring at her with narrowed ice-blue eyes.

"Explain to me," He started, "why did you decide to incorporate Steve?"

The witch opened her mouth to argue but decided against it. Instead, she shrugged a little. In a way, he was right; she had acted just like his old childhood friend.

"Malfoy angered Buckbeak deliberately." Harry explained, turning to look at her Great-Uncle. "If he had gotten hurt then his father would fire Hagrid, maybe even kill the hippogriff while he was at it." She bit her bottom lip and admitted, "I wasn't really thinking at the time. But I couldn't let Malfoy ruin Hagrid's life or break his heart with the death of one of his creatures…"

There was a moment of silence before James sighed. Harry blinked as he patted her head with a small fond smile.

"I get it." He said, "Just try another alternative next time – _Especially_ one that won't end with you in the Hospital Wing."

She smiled back, "I'll try."

"Good." James ruffled her hair before leaning against the chair, looking more relaxed. "I'll be dealing with the Malfoy boy soon, so don't worry about the brat."

The green eyed girl gave him a suspicious look.

She didn't bother asking for him to elaborate. Harry really didn't want to know what he meant.

With a sigh, the small girl started talking about her Transfiguration and Arithmancy classes when James asked about them. The conversation drifted after that and only stopped one hour or so before Poppy would be coming to see her.

They would kept talking but it didn't happen.

At first, Harry had been confused when her Great-Uncle cut off his tale about her Grandmother Rebecca by reaching out for her Invisibility Cloak and putting it on. It wasn't until she heard footsteps approaching the Hospital Wing that she understood the reason behind his actions.

The green-eyed girl turned toward the double doors, waiting.

"Hey, Harrykins!" Fred greeted her as he George stepped into the Hospital Wing and approached her.

George smiled, "Fancy seeing you here."

Harry stared, slightly arching her eyebrow. The witch didn't answer, not really wanting to have a small talk with the duo.

What did they want?

The twins sighed when she didn't sat anything. The duo exchanged a look, doing that twin speak of theirs that never failed to drive some of the other students crazy.

"Look, Harry," Fred started, uncomfortable. "we wanted to apologize."

She blinked.

Wait – What?

"It's just…" George seemed to search for the right words to explain their thought process but e he grimaced. The red haired boy had been successful. "Ok, we have no excuse aside from the fact that we were being idiots."

Fred nodded, "We shouldn't have ignored you or let the others treat you like thrash."

"We should have stopped them." His brother added, looking ashamed of himself.

"Can you give us another chance?" They asked – _pleaded _really. "We would really like to be your friends – _real _friends, not just acquaintances."

Harry blinked once more, feeling surprised. Despite her wishes, she hadn't expected to hear a apologize from anyone, much less the twins who were known to be stubborn. From the moment she had started going to Hogwarts, Harry had never heard them apologizing to anyone, even when they were clearly in the wrong.

Green eyes observed the red haired boys for a moment, staring at their faces. Just as they started squirm under her intense gaze, the thirteen years old witch smiled lightly.

"I forgive you." She said, giggling at the expression on their faces, "Thank you for taking the time to apologize."

Fred relaxed, "We knew that now would be the best time. Because, you know… with you being in the Hospital Wing and all that." He admitted.

"Not that you being here is a good thing." George added quickly, "But here you won't be able to avoid us like you have been doing with pretty much everyone since last year."

Harry shrugged.

"I have my reasons to avoid people." She pointed out.

The twins winced a little, "We know."

"So," Harry said after a moment of silence. "Did you guys just come to visit to ask my forgiveness or there's something else?"

They perked up.

"Actually, we wanted to show you something, Harry," George said.

"As well, ask you something." Fred added as he pulled a large, square, very worn piece of parchment with nothing written on it from inside his cloak.

With a flourish, he offered it to her.

Harry, wondering if this was one of Fred and George's jokes, stared at it.

"What's that supposed to be?" She asked slowly.

"This, Harry, is the secret of our success," George cooed, taking the parchment from his brother and patting it fondly.

"We had never showed it to anyone else before," Fred informed her, "but we decided this morning that we would have to do just that if we wanted to be honest with you and get an honest answer in return."

Harry poked the parchment, "Ok…? And what's so special about a piece of old parchment?"

Even though she couldn't see him, the small witch could _feel _James curiosity and interest.

"A piece of old parchment!" Fred gasped, closing his eyes with a grimace as if Harry had mortally offended him. "Explain, George." He said dramatically, "I just can't right now!"

George patted his twin's shoulder as he spoke, "Well, Harry, you see… when we were young, carefree, and innocent first years –"

The raven haired girl snorted, "I don't think that any of you had ever been innocent."

She was ignored.

"– well, more innocent than we are now –" Harry snorted once more but George kept going, "– we got into a spot of bother with Filch."

Fred nodded, "We had let off a Dungbomb in the corridor and it upset him for some reason –"

"So he hauled us off to his office and started threatening us with the usual –"

"– detention –" George held a hand out to start listing some of Filch's favorite methods of punishment.

Not that the man actually did some of those things. The Headmaster would never let him.

Fred made a motion with his hand, "– disembowelment –"

"– torture –"

"– not necessarily in this order –"

Harry heard a growl and twitched a little.

Filch better look out because she was pretty sure he was just added to her Great-Uncle's hit list (Not his _shit_ list, there were other requirement to get on that list).

"– and we couldn't help noticing a drawer in one of his filing cabinets marked Confiscated and Highly Dangerous." Fred continued their tale.

"I caused a diversion by dropping another Dungbomb while Fred whipped the drawer open, and grabbed – _this_." George gestured to the parchment.

Fred said, "We don't reckon Filch ever found out how to work it. He probably suspected what it was, though, or he wouldn't have confiscated it."

"So I presume it actually does something? Harry asked, curious.

"Oh yes," Fred smirked. "This little beauty's taught us more than all the teachers in this school."

The thirteen years old processed that piece of information before looking at the parchment with interest. It wasn't difficult for her to come to the conclusion that it had something to do with how the twins knew the school better than the staff.

A thought hit her and Harry wondered if the parchment also explained how they had known about James as well they knew how to find him last night.

"Watch," George said as he handed the parchment to her. The blue eyed boy took out his wand, touched the parchment lightly, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

And at once, thin ink lines began to spread like a spider's web from the point that George's wand had touched; they joined each other, crisscrossed and fanned into every corner of the parchment. Then words began to blossom across the top, great, curly green words, that proclaimed:

_Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs_

_Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers are proud to present_

_THE MARAUDER'S MAP_

Harry gasped when she saw that the previous empty parchment was now a map that showed _every_ detail of the Hogwarts castle and grounds. But that wasn't what surprised her, not truly. What made her gasp and stare in disbelief and astonishment were the tiny ink footprints moving around it; each labeled with a _name_ in minuscule writing.

Harry paled as her eyes traveled up and down the familiar corridors until she stopped in the Hospital Wing.

_Uh-oh, _the witch thought when she noticed exactly _where_ her Great-Uncle's name was positioned on the map.

"You see," Fred started. "We were looking at the map last night –"

"We wanted to come to see you after we learned that you would be staying in the Hospital Wing." George explained.

His brother continued, "– when we noticed a unknown name next to yours."

"James Buchanan Barnes." George informed her.

"We, of course, wanted to know who this man was and why he was with you." Fred said, running a hand through his hair, "So we spoke to him."

"He said that he was the Uncle James you," George made a pause, debating if he should continue. He did so after a moment, "The Uncle James you called out for at the train."

The twins looked at her, "Is he really?"

"Yes…" Harry nodded after a moment of hesitation, eyes flicking to the tall, long haired man standing behind the twins with his arms crossed.

They hadn't noticed him yet.

"Oh," They relaxed and exchanged a look. "That's cool."

Both James and Harry arched their eyebrows at this.

Had the Twins just come to her to confirm James status? There was nothing else? Seriously?!

Curious, she asked them so and they shrugged, smiling at her.

"We trust your instincts," They said. "If you trust this man then there's nothing for us to worry about."

"Well, aside for the fact that he is very scary." George said.

Fred shuddered, "Terrifying really."

"I know," The two blue-eyed boys screamed like little girls and jumped before turning around to stare at James. The man stared back with one of his dangerous smiles, "But thank you."

Harry giggled when the twins didn't even twitch. They were completely frozen in place.

"Fred and George," Harry gestured with her hand, believing that maybe now would be the best time to introduce the trio properly. Even if they had already meet before. "This is my Great-Uncle James. Uncle James, those are Fred and George Weasley."

They waved shaky hands, still looking a little dazed.

James didn't look like he cared as his eyes grew colder and his smile got more predatory (If such thing was even possible) before he said, "Betray her again in any shape or form and die."

Fred and George looked at her, their skins a few shade paler.

"He's messing with you." Harry assured them with a small, nervous smile.

James wasn't, in fact, messing around with them. Actually, Harry recognized the signs showing just how serious he was.

Not that she would tell the twins that.

* * *

Much to James's approval, Neville didn't immediately accept the twins when the duo joined them for dinner. The chubby wizard gave them distrustful looks but decided to give them the benefit of doubt. Until they betrayed or turned their backs on Harry, he would be friendly with them.

Harry smiled with fond exasperation, having long since come to accept that she seemed to attract people who took her happiness and safety more serious than she did.

Aside from all the excitement of her first day on Tuesday, nothing more happened until late Thursday afternoon, when the Gryffindors had their first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson… Well, Malfoy had been trying to bother her more often than usual, mostly because he hadn't been too happy with her saving him and ruining his plans, but James was always to introduce the bleached blonde's face to the nearest wall or to trip him.

Professor Lupin wasn't there when the Gryffindors arrived for their lesson so they all sat down and took out their books, quills, and parchment. When he finally entered the room, The scarred man smiled vaguely and placed his tatty old briefcase on the teacher's desk. He was as shabby as the last time she saw him but at least now he looked healthier, as if he had had a few square meals.

_Good for him_, Harry thought.

"Good afternoon," Professor Lupin said, not waiting for a answer before he continued, "Would you please put all your books back in your bags? Today will be a practical lesson." Harry perked up a little as did others. "You will need only your wands."

A few curious looks were exchanged as the class put away their books.

They never had a practical Defense Against the Dark Arts before. Well, that was if you didn't count the ridiculous class last year when Lockhart brought a cage full of pixies to class and set them loose.

"Right then," Professor Lupin said after everyone was ready. "If you'd follow me."

Harry and Neville shared an puzzled look but got to their feet alongside the others and followed Professor Lupin out of the classroom.

"I wonder where we're going?" Neville asked.

Harry shrugged a little and said, "Maybe he has a monster caged somewhere and we'll have to fight it."

"I-I hope not," The baby-blue eyed boy shook his head, looking a few shades pale. "I'm not good with spells."

The small witch itched to point out that it wasn't his fault, it was Grandmother's fault. He would have been doing better in class and his spells would have been stronger if the old witch wasn't forcing him use his father's old wand.

But she kept her mouth shut; Harry knew that Neville won't believe her. So, with a weak smile, she said, "Don't worry, I'll have your back."

Neville grinned at her.

"Uh," Her Great-Uncle muttered from her side, sounding amused, "Déjà vu…"

The raven haired witch sent a curious look in his direction but the man didn't say anything else. With a sigh, she focused her attention back on Professor Lupin as he led their class along a deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist.

The annoying ghost was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum. He was so focused on what he was doing that he didn't look up until Professor Lupin was two feet away from him. When he noticed the man, the jester ghost cackled and wiggled his curly-toed feet as he broke into song.

"Loony, loopy Lupin," Peeves sang. "Loony, loopy Lupin, loony, loopy Lupin –"

Harry blinked, surprised at the action. Peeves was known to be rude and unmanageable, especially to Hagrid, Filch and the students, but he usually showed some kind of respect toward the teachers.

Green eyes looked quickly at Professor Lupin, observing the smiling teacher with growing suspicion.

What was so different about Professor Lupin to cause Peeves to treat him like that?

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves," The teacher said pleasantly. "Mr. Filch won't be able to get in to his brooms."

Peeves paid no attention to Professor Lupin's words and blew a loud, wet raspberry.

Professor Lupin gave a small sigh and took out his wand. He looked over his shoulders at his students, "This is a useful little spell. Please watch closely." They leaned forward as he raised his wand to shoulder height and pointed it at the laughing Peeves as he said, "_Waddiwasi!_"

_Woosh! _With the force of a bullet, the wad of chewing gum shot out of the keyhole and straight down Peeves's left nostril. The ghost yelped as he whirled up-right and zoomed away, cursing.

"Cool, sir!" Dean Thomas grinned in amazement.

"Thank you, Dean," Professor Lupin smiled, putting his wand away. "Shall we proceed?"

"Sir," Hermione raised her hand as they set off again. "What does that spell do exactly?"

Some of the others looked curious to know the answer as well. Professor Lupin smiled at them and started explaining. He spoke about it as well other interesting prank spells until the class stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

"Why're we here?" Seamus Finnegan hissed to Ron and Dean.

The boys shrugged and shook their heads, looking just as confused as him.

"Inside, please," Professor Lupin requested, opening the door and standing back.

The staffroom was a long, paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs. It was empty except for one teacher.

Neville whimpered while Harry narrowed her eyes.

Professor Snape was sitting in a low armchair, looking around as the class filed in. His onyx eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth.

As Professor Lupin came in and made to close the door behind him, Snape said, "Leave it open, Lupin. I'd rather not witness this."

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway he turned on his heel and said,

"Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you to not entrust him with anything difficult."

Harry clenched her fists when Neville bowed his head, flushing with embarrassment.

Snape never missed any kind of opportunity to bully or humiliate his students. Honestly, Harry would never understand why Dumbledore kept that horrible man in the school. Aside from his Slytherins, the man treated all the other students like trash (Especially Harry and Neville).

Professor Lupin raised his eyebrows, "I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation," The amber eyed man said, "and I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Neville's face went, if it was even possible, even redder. Snape's lip curled but he left without a word, shutting the door with a snap.

Harry patted her friend's shoulder as he sighed in relief.

"That man shouldn't be a teacher." James commented, his voice cold and devoid of any emotion.

The small thirteen years old girl hummed in agreement to her invisible Great-Uncle's words.

"Now, then," Professor Lupin beckoned the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes.

As Professor Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall. Harry and the other Gryffindors jumped little at the suddenly movement.

"Nothing to worry about," Professor Lupin assured them. "There's just a boggart in there."

That just made some of her year mates to step back, making it clear that they thought that this was clearly something to worry about.

Neville gave Professor Lupin a look of pure terror while Seamus eyed the now rattling doorknob apprehensively.

"Boggarts like dark, enclosed spaces," Professor Lupin informed them. "Wardrobes, the gap beneath beds, the cupboards under sinks, old chests – I've even met one that had lodged itself in a grandfather clock." He knocked on the side of the wardrobe which moved again, "This one moved in yesterday afternoon, and I asked the headmaster if the staff would leave it here so I could give my third years some practice." He made a pause before he went on, "So, the first question we must ask ourselves is; what is a boggart?"

Hermione's hand immediately flew up, shaking a little to call for Professor Lupin's attention.

The man waited to see if anyone else wanted to answer before he made a motion toward the bushy haired witch.

"A boggart is a shape-shifter," She said. "It can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Professor Lupin said and Hermione glowed smugly at the praise. "So the boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. It does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when it is alone, but when I let it out, it will immediately become whatever each of us fears the most."

He scanned their faces to see if they were paying attention before continuing.

"With this in mind," Professor Lupin, choosing to ignore Neville's small sputter of terror, "who can tell me the best way to deal with a boggart?"

Hermione bobbed up and down on the balls of her feet with her hand in the air but, this time, she wasn't the only one who knew or wanted to answer.

"Harry." Professor Lupin nodded at her. Hermione put her hand down, pursuing her lips with disappointment.

The green-eyed girl blinked when she noticed the strange glint in his eyes when he looked at her but she decided to ignore it for now.

"With more than one person in the same room as the boggart, it'll get confused and won't know what shape it should take." The witch replied.

"Precisely," Professor Lupin smiled widely. "It's always best to have company when you're dealing with a boggart. It becomes confused. Now – The charm that repels a boggart is simple, yet it requires force of mind. To truly finish – Yes, Parvati?"

Parvati Patil lowered her hand, "Can we just watch if we don't want to go against the boggart?"

Neville looked hopeful at this as did Ron.

Professor Lupin looked at her with a smile, "You could, but this is a great opportunity. Being able to recognize and confront your fears will help you a lot in the future."

"He's right," James muttered, placing his arm around Harry.

The small girl frowned a little, thinking about everything that she had just learned.

"Now," Professor Lupin went on, "as I was saying, to truly finish a boggart, your greatest weapon is laughter. All you need to do is force it to assume a shape that you find amusing." He said. "We'll practice the spell to deal with boggarts without wands first. Repeat after me, please; _riddikulus!_"

"_Riddikulus!_" The whole class said.

Professor Lupin asked some of them to repeat it again so he could correct their pronunciation and then took out his wand.

"Good," He said. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see, the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in, Neville." Amber eyes turned to look at the blonde haired boy.

The wardrobe shook again, though not as much as Neville, who walked forward as though he was heading to his execution.

Harry shook her head, feeling a little amused.

"Right, Neville," Professor Lupin said kindly. "First things first: what is the thing that frightens you the most in the world?"

Neville's lips moved, but no noise came out.

"Didn't catch that, Neville, sorry," Professor Lupin said cheerfully.

Neville looked around rather wildly, as if he was begging someone to help him. When his eyes landed on her, Harry decided to give him a hand.

"It's Professor Snape." She said.

Nearly everyone laughed. Even Neville grinned apologetically as he nodded in agreement.

Professor Lupin, however, looked thoughtful, "Professor Snape, huh... Neville, I believe you live with your grandmother?"

"Er – yes," Neville replied, half confused and half nervous. "But – I don't want the boggart to turn into her either."

Some of the other Gryffindors chuckled.

"No, no, you misunderstand me," Professor Lupin smiled. "I wonder, could you tell us what sort of clothes your grandmother usually wears?"

Neville looked startled but said, "Well… always the same hat – a tall one with a stuffed vulture on top. And a long dress… they are usually green and… and sometimes a fox-fur scarf."

"And a handbag?" Professor Lupin prompted.

"A big red one," Neville nodded a little.

"Right then," Professor Lupin clapped his hands. "Can you picture those clothes very clearly, Neville? Can you see them in your mind's eye?"

"Yes," Neville said uncertainly, plainly wondering what was coming next and why the man kept making those strange questions.

"When the boggart bursts out of this wardrobe, Neville, and sees you, it will assume the form of Professor Snape," Professor Lupin informed him. "And you will raise your wand and cry _'Riddikulus'_. I want you to concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes when casting the charm. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress, with that big red handbag."

There was a great shout of laughter from the class at the mere thought of Snape using such thing.

The wardrobe wobbled more violently.

"If Neville is successful, the boggart is likely to shift his attention to each of us in turn," Professor Lupin said. "I would like all of you to take a moment now to think of the thing that scares you most, and imagine how you might force it to look comical…"

The room went quiet.

Harry looked at her feet. No matter how much she tried, she couldn't think about what scared her the most. To be honest, a lot of things scared her… It difficult to pick only one fear and hope that the boggart would turn into it…

Sighing, she decided to waited until she had to face the boggart. She won't get anywhere by thinking about it.

"Everyone ready?" Professor Lupin asked.

Harry took a deep breath as she leaned slightly against James while everyone else was nodding or rolling up their sleeves up.

"Neville, we're going to back away," Professor Lupin pulled the shaking boy with him. "Let you have a clear field, all right? I'll call the next person forward… Everyone back, now, so Neville can get a clear shot –"

They all retreated, backed against the walls, leaving Neville alone beside the wardrobe. He looked pale and frightened, but he had pushed up the sleeves of his robes and was holding his wand ready.

"On the count of three, Neville," Professor Lupin said, pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe. "One, two, three – _now_!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Professor Lupin's wand, hitting the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open and the familiar hook-nosed Professor Snape stepped out, his malicious eyes flashing at Neville as he sneered.

Flinching a little, her blonde haired friend backed away, his wand up as he mouthed wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes for his own wand when the boy finally reacted.

"R-Riddikulus!" Neville squeaked.

There was a noise like a whip _crack_. Snape stumbled. Suddenly his black robes were replaced by a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture and, in his hand, he was holding a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter while the boggart seemed to pause and look down at his clothes.

Professor Lupin shouted, "Parvati! Forward!"

The desi girl walked forward, her face set. Snape turned to look at her and – _Crack!_ Where Snape had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy. Harry grimaced at the horrible smell coming from the mummy. With a sound similar to a grunt, it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising –

"_Riddikulus!_" Parvati screamed.

The mummy stopped, twitching until it exploded; filling the space where it had stood with colorful confetti and smoke.

"Seamus!" Professor Lupin called for the Irish boy, waving his hand.

After getting pats on the back, Seamus darted past Parvati and stopped in front of the mummy's remains.

_Crack!_

The confetti was replaced by a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face. It was a banshee.

Harry and Neville immediately covered their ears as the woman opened her mouth wide and an unearthly sound filled the room; a long, wailing shriek that made the windows of the room shake.

"_Riddikulus_!" Seamus shouted.

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice was gone.

_Crack! _The banshee turned into a rat, which chased its tail in a circle, then – _Crack!_ – became a rattlesnake, which slithered and writhed before – _Crack! _– becoming a single, bloody eyeball.

Harry stared at it, wondering if the shapeshifting creature was starting to get confused because of all those _Ridikkiculus _thrown in its way or if there was something wrong with it.

"It's confused!" Professor Lupin shouted, "We're getting there! Dean! You're next!"

The mocha skinned boy hurried forward with a wide grin on his face.

_Crack! _The eyeball became a severed hand, which flipped over and began to creep along the floor like a crab.

"_Riddikulus!_" Dean yelled with a slightly tremor to his voice.

There was a snap, and the hand was suddenly dressed with in a frilly dress as it started to do something akin to a tap dance.

Professor Lupin looked a little bemused as he clapped, "Excellent! Ron, your turn!"

Ron leapt forward, gulping.

Harry grabbed Neville's arm and gave a step back to distance themselves from the Ron and the boggart as much as possible. She knew what the red haired boy's boggart would turn into.

_Crack! _

Neville moved close to her and quite a few people screamed as a monstrous, six feet tall spider covered in hair started advancing on Ron, clicking its pincers menacingly.

Ron froze for a moment, his hand shaking as he hunched his shoulders. Professor Lupin took a step forward, as if to intervene but then –

"_Riddikulus!_" Ron roared.

The spider's legs vanished, causing its body to fall on the floor. Lavender Brown squeaked in disgust as Ron stepped aside so she could have her turn.

_Crack!_

The body of the spider disappeared before it was replaced by a copy of Lavender. This one though, looked horrible; there were dark bags under her eyes, pimples and blackspots on her face, her hair looked like it hadn't been washed in a long time and her clothes seemed to be thorn in several places.

The honey brown girl wailed almost as loud as Seamus's Banshee, fat tears falling from her eyes as she shook her head and ran to the back of the room. Professor Lupin frowned a little with a kind look on his face as he moved to talk to the inconsolable girl, trying to convince her to give another go and face her fears.

"Who's next?" Fay Dunbar, a girl with an Australian accent and curly blonde hair, asked. "Because I'm going last."

Fay looked at Hermione and Harry. The older bushy haired witch shook her head, sending not so discretely glances toward Lavender's boggart. Sighing Harry stepped forward.

"I'll go." She said.

Harry wasn't all that enthusiastic to let everyone know about what she feared the most, but she was rather curious to know what it actually was.

"You can do it, Harry!" Dean cheered for her along Seamus. Parvati also clapped a little to give her own form of encouragement, although she kept looking back at Lavender with worried eyes.

Professor Lupin's head whipped in their direction, amber eyes widening when he saw who was going to try facing the boggart next. Quickly, he left Lavender and started moving toward them.

Harry took a deep breath, stepping in front of the Lavender copy –

_Crack!_

Someone screamed and Professor Lupin stopped when he saw saw Harry's boggart. His expression twisted, as if he was thorn between surprise and horror.

Invisible arms warped around her but all she could do was stare at the dead body of her mother, which was sprawled on the floor; lifeless but familiar green eyes – identical to Harry's – staring at her.

All the air seemed to vanish from Harry's lungs and her eyes burned. Her heart started beating painfully against her chest and her body felt heavy as she pointed her shaking wand at the body.

"_R-Ridikulus!_" Harry sobbed. This class wasn't interesting as before, not anymore.

She wanted to leave.

_Crack!_

Lily Potter's body turned into her husband's, which was spread-eagled on his back, his hazel eyes wide open and empty behind broken glasses.

James pulled her against his chest, "It's ok, doll." He whispered. "It's ok. They aren't real, Charis."

"_Riddikulus!_" She sobbed again.

_Crack!_

Her Great-Uncle's body replaced James Potter's body, his gun on his hand and a trickle of blood running down his face.

Harry shook her head as her ears started ringing. The spell wasn't working. Why wasn't it working?!

Feeling like she was ready to panic, the small girl tried to regain her breath. Just as she lowered her wand, Professor Lupin finally reacted. Pulling out his own wand he said, his nothing more than a whisper,

"_Riddikulus…_"

Harry sobbed a little more as James's body vanished. A silvery orb hung in the air over the spot where it had lain. Professor Lupin waved his wand once more and the orb vanished in a puff of smoke.

There was a tense moment of silence; no one spoke or moved. Harry could feel their eyes on her but she didn't acknowledge them, trying stop crying.

"Homework," The amber eyed man said, his voice weak and trembling slightly. "kindly read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it for me. It's to be handed in on Monday."

He took a deep breath, turning to look at her with intensity. There was some kind of emotion in his eyes but she didn't even try to understand what it meant.

"Class dismissed…"

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	11. Chapter 11

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 11. Not so Peaceful Halloween**

Two hours and one Gryffindor robes soaked with tears later, Harry sat by James's side, staring down at her hands. She sniffed a little, taking comfort in her Great-Uncle's warmth.

Across her, Professor Lupin looked around for the kettle so he could warm some tea for them. The man had asked the witch to stay behind after dismissing the others, weakly telling Harry that he wanted to talk to her about what happened.

The small girl had agreed between heartbreaking and loudly sobs. She hadn't had the strength to move away or disagree with the scarred man.

James's presence helped to ground her, to remind her that none of those bodies were real… But it still didn't make the whole experience hurt less.

After he finally found the kettle, Professor Lupin tapped it with his wand and a blast of steam issued suddenly from the spout.

"Here it is," Professor Lupin said, passing a chipped mug of tea to Harry.

The girl took it with a trembling hand, rubbing her eyes with the other.

"You know," The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher tried and failed to sound nonchalant, "I was… expecting your boggart to be different…"

The small raven haired witch resisted the urge of giving him a dry look and say, rudely, something along the lines of _Really now? What did you expect to see?_

Instead, she drank her tea and waited for him to continue.

"I expected it to be Voldemort," Professor Lupin admitted.

Harry absentmindedly took note of how he actually said Voldemort's name and drank more of her tea. It was either _drink the tea_ or _laugh at the ridiculousness of such thought._

The raven haired witch was afraid of many things, she won't lie about that, but none of them were Voldemort. _Related _to Voldemort, _definitely_. But the wizard himself? No, not really.

"It wasn't," She said, shrugging weakly as she sniffed.

"Yes – Er," Professor Lupin turned around for a moment, reaching out to grab the plate of cauldron cakes behind him.

Harry smiled at James as he took the opportunity to give her a handkerchief. She really needed it.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Professor Lupin asked, offering her one of the cakes to which she declined politely.

She bit her bottom lip at her question. Harry couldn't see him, but she could still feel her ice blue-eyed Great-Uncle's disbelief and irritation at the question.

Did she want to talk about her greatest fears with an stranger? Did she want to tell this stranger all about her fears of not being good enough to honor her parents' sacrifice? Her fears of losing the only family she had and of being left alone?

Seriously?

Something of Harry's thoughts must have showed up on her face because Professor Lupin gave her a uncomfortable and sad smile.

"I know we don't each other yet, but I hope that you'll come to me in the future when you find yourself in need of a confident." The scarred man said kindly.

While it was nice of him, Harry couldn't help but wonder if this was one of those _Punch the Punk Where it Hurts _moments that James had warned her about over the summer after teaching her how defend herself from men who were bigger and taller than her (It wasn't much, just a few moves to give her time to run as far as she could).

By the way her Great-Uncle's grabbed the collar of her robes, pulling it up, the thirteen years old took that as an confirmation and her cue to leave.

"I think I need to go," Harry said, placing the mug of tea over the table across her and standing up as she looked down at her wrist watch. "I want to do all my homework before Astronomy."

Before the Professor could say anything, Harry smiled politely, if not a little tense, and left the room with an wave of her hand.

"That – That was really strange," Harry muttered as she and James walked away from the staffroom.

James lowered the hood of the cloak and she saw the dark look on his face, "He seems far too interested on you for my liking."

Harry grimaced.

She hoped her Great-Uncle was wrong because every time a teacher showed some kind of interest on her, it never ended well; for both her and the teacher.

"Charis…"

"Uh?" Green eyes blinked at the man as he looked down at her with kind ice-blue eyes.

"Do you want to talk about happened?" James asked.

Harry opened her mouth to deny. She knew that if she did, her Great-Uncle would change the subject without much problem but…

"Yeah," She replied softly, "I do."

James took her hand and _listened_. And she loved him for it.

Uncle James, Harry thought, was the best.

* * *

Nothing really important or interesting happened after Harry's first Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson of the year. Well, there was the lack of rumors about said lesson circulating the castle; apparently, her fellow Gryffindors had finally decided to mind in their own business for once (Neville was the only one who approached her about the subject but he never tried to make her talk like Ron and Hermione would have done. Instead, like the good friend he was, he merely told her that he would be there if she needed someone to talk to). But _that _was more _surprising _than either important or interesting.

Days had gone by and Harry quickly noticed that of the "classic" classes, Defense Against the Dark Art was showing itself to be the students' new favorite, replacing Charms and Transfiguration in many hearts. Mostly because of Professor Lupin, who was a great teacher.

There was a little of mixed feelings about the electives. Some were seen as boring and just a easy way to pass while others were seen as fun or interesting. Care of Magical Creatures was the one elective described as fun more often. After the whole incident with Buckbeak the Hipogriff, Malfoy and his gang had had back off a little and Hagrid had, in turn, been able to teach properly without any interruption or hidden plots being involved (Although he did hand a few detentions over whenever Malfoy forgot what happened the last time he tried to mess around in his class). And, speaking of electives…

"I switched Divination with Ancient Runes." Neville told Harry one morning as they worked together on the same _puffapod_ in Herbology.

Harry beamed, "Great!" She said before thinking about it, "Why now though? Couldn't you have switched early?"

Her chubby friend shook his head and explained, "Not really. I had to do all the work I missed before Professor Babbling could decide if I was allowed to switch or not."

The witch nodded. It made sense.

"What did you think?" Harry asked before quickly adding, "Of the work you had to do, I mean."

"It's pretty cool," Neville gave her a timid smile as they stripped the fat pink pods from the plant and emptied the shining beans into a wooden pail. "I can't wait for us to learn how to incorporate Runes in Herbology!" He said with a little bit more excitement.

The green-eyed girl smiled back, "Yeah, I liked to learn about how diverse Runes can be. It can do almost anything normal spells can."

Before Neville could say anything about it, they heard a frustrated growl and the sound of beans scattering all over the greenhouse floor. Turning around, the duo saw a red faced Ron and a nervous looking Hermione.

"Careful, Weasley, careful!" Professor Sprout shouted as the beans burst into bloom before their very eyes.

The red-haired boy grumbled before reaching out to grab the blooms from the floor.

"I can do it on my own!" Ron snapped when Hermione tried to help him.

Harry exchanged a look with Neville when the girl flinched before huffing and turning her attention back to her own beans.

"Why're they fighting now?" Harry asked warily, wondering if she truly wanted to know.

This year, Ron and Hermione had been fighting more than usual. Everyone in the common room was getting of their constant shouting matches and some of the older students were already contemplating to send the two of them to a couples therapy, much to the amusement of the others.

"Apparently," Neville whispered, "Crookshanks tried to eat Scabbers again."

Harry took some time to remember who Crookshanks was before it clicked. That was the name of Hermione's new grumpy looking cat.

"Well," The thirteen years old girl said slowly, "Crookshanks _is _a cat and cats do hunt rats."

At least that was what she learned from the few episodes of _Tom and Jerry_ that she had been able to watch as a kid.

"Try explaining that to Ron," Neville shook his head, exasperated.

"Leave me alone, Hermione!"

"I'm trying to help you, Ronald!"

All Gryffindors in the greenhouse sighed as the duo started bickering.

The next day, before they left Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had a announcement to make.

"One moment, please!" She called as the class made to leave. "As you're all in my House, you should hand your Hogsmeade permission forms to me before November 1st." The old witch gave them all an stern look, "No form, no visiting the village, so don't forget!"

Beside Harry, Neville slowly put his hand up.

"Please, Professor, I –" He flushed, "I think I've lost –"

"Your grandmother sent yours to me directly, Mr. Longbottom," Professor McGonagall sighed. "She seemed to think it was safer. Well, if that's all, you may all leave."

Harry sighed as she followed Neville out of the classroom and headed to the Great Hall for lunch. She really wanted to visit Hogsmead but well, that impossible without the form.

"Why so gloom, Harrykins?" Fred asked as he jumped beside her while George placed himself between her and Neville.

"Did something happen?" George asked.

Neville gave her a sympathetic look before replying in her place, "She can't go to Hogsmead."

Fred hummed while George rubbed his chin in thought.

"We can always forge your guardians' signature." He offered.

"We're pros with this kind of forgery." Fred added, getting a nod from his brother.

"Thanks but no thanks," Harry muttered as they made a turn down the corridor. "I don't even know where my form is."

She was pretty she had forgotten it in her old room in Number Four, Privet Drive.

"Too bad," Fred said. "We'll bring you something."

"Just tell us what you want." George nodded while Neville promised to do the same, giving her a list of what they could get for her in Hogsmead.

When they reached the Great Hall and sat on their usual place at the end of the Gryffindor table, the twins asked her something that made Harry blink in surprise.

"Hey, Harry," They called her, "Where's your shadow? He took the map this morning and disappeared."

The small witch put a little bit of mashed potatoes on her plate and looked up, staring at the twins who sitting across her. Neville and Lee weren't paying attention to them, talking about some kind of rare plant native to Uganda that Lee's Grandmother had brought to him over the summer.

"He left for his Healer appointment." She said.

Harry had wondered at the beginning of the year how James would keep going to his appointments with Healer Summers but her Great-Uncle had already been prepared.

He had, at some point over the summer holidays, contacted the Goblins and gotten a special Portkey that would take him from Hogsmead to St. Mungo's and then back again every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday. Harry had been really relieved at this. She hadn't wanted James to stop visiting the Healer just because he had decided to come to Hogwarts with her.

"Is he sick?" George frowned.

Harry smiled lightly, "He's getting better."

And that was all that mattered to both Harry and James.

* * *

On Halloween morning, the school owls swooped into the Great Hall carrying the mail as usual. Harry was leaning over to grab a blueberry muffin from the plate across her when Neville choked.

Turning around, her eyes widened. On her left, James pocked her hips in question, trying to understand why she had reacted like this, but Harry ignored her Great-Uncle.

A huge barn owl had landed in front of her blonde haired friend. It was staring at him with unblinking eyes as it clutched a scarlet envelope in its beak.

Neville started shaking, staring at the familiar scarlet envelop. The owl seemed annoyed with him before it let the envelope go in front of him and flew away as quick as it could.

"Neville –" Harry was cut off by her friend whimper of terror when the letter began to smoke at the corners.

"Open it," Seamus, who had been sitting across them, urged.

Dean had a different advice, "Run, Neville! Run!"

The baby-blue eyed boy would have done so but he had already the envelope with shaking hands. The scarlet envelope started tearing itself until it looked like a mouth filled with sharp teeth.

All Gryffindors immediately stuffed their fingers into their ears.

Dust fell from the ceiling as a roar of fury filled the Great Hall, "NEVILLE FRANKLIN LONGBOTTOM! HOW DARE YOU CHANGE YOUR ELECTIVES WITHOUT MY APPROVAL –"

The volume of Augusta Longbdottom's voice could have rivalled Mrs. Weasley's; the plates and spoons rattled on the table, and the windows trembled.

Harry shook her head as her eardrums started hurting. She was so focused in trying to muffle the Banshee-like screams coming from the Howler Neville got from his Grandmother, that she almost missed a important and horrible part of her rant;

"– DISGRACE TO THIS FAMILY! YOUR PARENTS WOULD HAVE BEEN ASHAM –"

A ringing silence fell as the scarlet envelope burst into flames, stopping the screams.

Slowly, everyone turned to look at Harry.

The witch in question was standing with her wand out and glaring at the remains of the Howler. With a sneer worth of Snape, she tucked her wand behind her ear (Which was where she always placed it when in Hogwarts) and sat down once more.

_How dare she say such thing to Neville_, Harry thought, stabbing her scrambled eggs, _How dare Mrs. Longbottom humiliate him like that!_

"Fifteen points to Gryffindor for saving us all from being rendered deaf." Professor McGonagall broke the silence, marching from the head table and moving in their direction, "Mr. Longbottom, come with me, please."

Neville stared at her, pale and wide eyed. Quickly he turned to look at Harry who smiled kindly and made a motion for him to follow the Transfiguration teacher.

"What the hell was that?" James gritted his teeth and she could imagine him covering his ears from under her Invisibility Cloak.

"A Howler," Harry replied before she started explaining what exactly was the letter.

Hopefully, the older witch would be able to deal with her old schoolmate. Mrs. Longbottom needed to understand that Neville was his own person.

Neville didn't show up again until the Halloween feast later that day when Harry and James reached the entrance hall and crossed into the Great Hall, which had been decorated with hundreds and hundreds of candle-filled pumpkins, a cloud of fluttering live bats, and many flaming orange streamers, which were swimming lazily across the stormy ceiling like brilliant water snakes.

Her Great-Uncle was telling her stories about how he and sister celebrated the holiday when Neville showed up, clutching a pinkish wand in his hand.

"Hi, Harry!" Neville greeted her, catching up with her just as Harry was ready to sit down.

"Hi, Nev," The raven haired girl smiled. "Where have you been?" She asked, hearing the sound of a parchment being unfolded.

James, she guessed, had decided to look at the Marauders' Map. He had been doing that a lot lately.

"Professor McGonagall called for Gran," He said, reaching out to grab a plate of salmon. "They spoke for a few hours and then Gran actually took me to get a new wand for myself." He grinned, showing off said wand. "Cherry with Unicorn tail hair - Perfect for Herbology."

Harry smiled back. Of course it was perfect for Herbology, she won't have expected anything less from a wand that had picked Neville as its wilder.

"That's good," She said. "Do you know anything about Cherry wood?"

As they chatted about the wood, Harry kept glancing at the staff table with a frown. Professor Lupin who looked like he was talking animatedly to tiny Professor Flitwick, kept sending looks in her direction. It was difficult to ignore it but she still tried.

Harry really wanted to know why this teacher was so interested in her. Maybe he wanted to kill her like Quirell or maybe he was after her fame like Lockhart?

With a sigh, Harry decided to think about it later, turning her attention to James for a brief moment when he touched her shoulder, silently telling her that he was going _hunting_.

"Hunting what?" She blinked her eyes, confused.

James never explained, leaving before she had even been able to finish the question. Neville had overheard her words and asked about it but the witch distracted him by talking about their newest Herbology essay (She would tell him about James when they weren't surrounded by so many people. But right now wasn't the best time).

The feast finished with an entertainment provided by the Hogwarts ghosts. They popped out of the walls and tables to do a bit of formation gliding; Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had a great success with a reenactment of his own botched beheading.

After the feast, Harry and Neville followed the other Gryffindors along the usual path to Gryffindor Tower. However, when they reached the corridor that ended with the portrait of the Fat Lady, they found it jammed with students.

Immediately, Harry felt dread fill her.

The day had been going so well. She should have known that something would go wrong. It always did on Halloween.

"Why isn't anyone going in?" She heard Ron ask curiously.

Harry tiptoed, craning her neck to see over the heads in front of her. She couldn't see it properly, but Harry did notice that the Fat Lady portrait was closed – Actually, the Fat Lady wasn't even there.

"Where did she go?" Neville asked.

It was a question that many voiced out loud.

"Let me through, please," Percy Weasley said as he came bustling through the crowd with an air of importance. "What's the holdup here?" He snapped. "You can't all have forgotten the password –" The red-haired seventeen years old glared at those who blocked his path. "Excuse me, _I'm_ Head Bo –"

He cut himself off and a tense silence fell over the crowd. Harry bit her bottom lip as a chill seemed to spread down the corridor.

Suddenly, Percy spoke in a sharp voice, "Somebody get Professor Dumbledore. _Now_."

Harry jumped a little, cursing her height she tried and failed to see what had made Percy react like that.

A moment later, Professor Dumbledore was there, sweeping toward the portrait. The Gryffindors had to squeeze together to let him through, and Harry and Neville took the opportunity to move closer so they could understand what was going on.

Emerald green eyes widened when the thirteen years old girl saw that the Fat Lady portrait had been slashed so viciously that strips of canvas littered the floor; great chunks of it had been torn away completely.

Headmaster Dumbledore took one look at the ruined painting and turned, his eyes somber as he stared at Professors McGonagall, Lupin, and Snape who were hurrying toward him.

"We need to find her," Professor Dumbledore said, voice strong and echoing, "Professor McGonagall, please go to Mr. Filch at once and tell him to search every painting in the castle for the Fat Lady."

"You'll be lucky!" A familiar voice cackled.

Heads turned to see Peeves the Poltergeist, who was bobbing over the crowd and looking delighted as he always did at the sight of chaos, wreckage or worry.

"What do you mean, Peeves?" Professor Dumbledore asked calmly.

Peeves's grin faded a little at the expression on the old wizard's face. He didn't dare taunt or play around with the Headmaster, he knew better than that. Instead he adopted an oily voice that was no better than his cackle.

"Ashamed," He cooed, "Your Headship, sir. Doesn't want to be seen. She's a horrible mess. Saw her running through the landscape up on the fourth floor, sir, dodging between the trees. Crying something dreadful," Peeves said happily made a pause before adding unconvincingly, "Poor thing,"

"Did she say who did it?" Professor Dumbledore asked quietly.

"Oh yes, Professorhead," Peeves nodded, with the air of one cradling a large bombshell in his arms. "He got very angry when she wouldn't let him in, you see." Peeves flipped over and grinned at the Headmaster from between his own legs. "Nasty temper he's got, that Sirius Black."

Harry grimaced when _everyone _turned to look at her at the name. She then rubbed her face as it finally clicked in her mind and she understood what James's had meant with _go hunting_.

Her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle must have seen Black's name in the map and decided to go after the man…

"Silence!" Professor Dumbledore shouted, stopping all whispers and hushed talks about the escaped convict. "I want all of you to head to the Great Hall. _Now!_"

Harry stared at the ripped portrait of the Fat Lady, wondering where James was, and only moved after Neville grabbed her arm.

After they all got to the Great Hall, the Gryffindors were joined ten minutes later by the students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin, who all looked extremely confused.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," Professor Dumbledore announced as Professors McGonagall and Flitwick closed all doors into the hall. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the Prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately," The Headmaster finished to Percy, who was looking immensely proud and important at being addressed. "Send word with one of the ghosts."

Professor Dumbledore paused, about to leave the hall before he turned around to look at them and said,

"Oh, yes, you'll be needing…"

Trailing off, casually waved wand and the long tables flew to the edges of the hall and stood themselves against the walls. With another wave, the floor was covered with hundreds of squashy purple sleeping bags.

"Sleep well," Professor Dumbledore said, closing the door behind him.

The hall immediately began to buzz excitedly with the Gryffindors were telling the rest of the school what had just happened until Percy shot sparks from his wand.

"Everyone into your sleeping bags!" Percy shouted, his chested puffed out like a peacock. "Come on, now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

The Head Boy kept shouting orders until everyone had seized their own sleeping bags. Harry and Neville dragged their sleeping bags into a corner where you could find the others Third Year Gryffindors.

"Do you think Black's still in the castle?" Someone whispered anxiously.

It took a moment for Harry recognize the voice as Hermione's.

"Dumbledore obviously thinks he might be," Ron grumbled.

All around them, people were asking one another the same question: "How did he get in?"

"Maybe he knows how to Apparate," A Ravenclaw muttered a few feet away. "Just appear out of thin air, you know."

"Disguised himself, probably," A Hufflepuff fifth year suggested.

"He could've flown in," Dean suggested to Seamus who quickly pointed out that if that was the case then Black would have turned into Dementor's food.

"The lights are going out now!" Percy shouted. "I want everyone in their sleeping bags and no more talking!"

Immediately, the candles all went out at once. The only light now came from the silvery ghosts, who were drifting about talking seriously to the prefects, and the enchanted ceiling, which, like the sky outside, was scattered with stars. What with that, and the whispering that still filled the hall, Harry felt like she were sleeping outdoors in a light wind.

It would have been nice, hadn't she been worried about James. It was a unnecessary worry, she knew. Her Great-Uncle could take care of himself. But that didn't stop her from worrying about him, especially since Headmaster Dumbledore would join the search party for Black.

What if the old and eccentric Headmaster found James?

"Are you alright, Harry?" Neville whispered, looking at her with a frown.

Harry gave him a sweet smile, "I'm fine."

The baby-blue eyed wizard didn't look like he believed her but he didn't say anything else, accepting her answer. He fell asleep soon after.

Harry didn't though. She couldn't sleep, not until James came back.

Once every hour, a teacher would reappear in the hall to check that everything was quiet. Around three in the morning, just as Harry was having to fight to keep her eyes open, Professor Dumbledore finally came back in.

The green-eyed thirteen years old watched him by the corner of her eyes. The old wizard looked around for Percy, who had been prowling between the sleeping bags, telling the people who were still awake off for talking.

"Any sign of him, Professor?" Percy, who hadn't been too far from where Harry was laying, asked in a whisper.

"No." Professor Dumbledore sighed. "All well here?"

Percy nodded stiff, "Everything under control here, sir."

"Good." The Headmaster said, "There's no point in moving them all now. I've found a temporary guardian for the Gryffindor portrait hole. You'll be able to move them back in tomorrow."

"And the Fat Lady, sir?" Percy asked.

"Hiding in a map of Argyllshire on the second floor. Apparently, she refused to let Black in without the password, so he attacked. She's still very distressed but once she's calmed down, I'll have Mr. Filch restore her."

Harry heard the door of the hall creak open again, and there were sounds of slow footsteps. The green-eyed girl pursued her lips a little when she couldn't see who it was.

"Headmaster?" It was Snape. "The whole of the third floor has been searched. He's not there. And Filch has done the dungeons; nothing there either."

"What about the Astronomy tower? Professor Trelawney's room? The Owlery? The abandoned classrooms?" Professor Dumbledore didn't list anything else but it was implied.

"All searched…" Snape replied, sounding more unhappy than usual.

"Very well, Severus." Professor Dumbledore said, "I didn't really expect Black to linger."

"Do you have any theory as to how he got in, sir?" Snape asked and Harry stiffed a yawn, noting that there was a hint of anticipation to his voice. Coming from someone like the bitter Potions Master, it was really creepy.

There was a moment of silence before Dumbledore replied.

"Many, Severus, each of them as unlikely as the next." The old blue-eyed wizard shook his head.

Snape hummed, trying and failing to sound nonchalantly as he spoke, "Headmaster, do you remember the conversation we had just before the start of term?"

Harry knitted her eyebrows at Snape's strange question.

"I do, Severus," Dumbledore replied, and there was something like warning in his voice.

Snape either didn't notice or ignored the warning, "It would have been impossible for Black to have entered the school without inside help. I did express my concerns when you appointed –"

Harry bit her tongue to stop herself from gasping at the clear accusation while Professor Dumbledore cut him off.

"I do not believe a single person inside this castle would have helped Black enter it," Headmaster Dumbledore said and his tone made it clear that the subject was closed. Harry could almost imagine the unpleasant expression Snape made at this. "I must go down to the Dementors," Professor Dumbledore said. "I said I would inform them when our search was complete."

"Didn't they want to help, sir?" Percy asked, curiously.

"Oh yes," The wizard replied coldly. "But I'm afraid no Dementor will cross the threshold of this castle while I am headmaster."

Percy looked slightly abashed and Professor Dumbledore left the hall, walking quickly and quietly. Snape took his time but left soon after, stomping his feet angrily like a child throwing a tantrum.

Harry feel asleep seconds after that strange, and rather suspicious conversation ended, having been far too tired to stay awake for much longer.

* * *

The thirteen years old girl woke up a little before breakfast and left with the others for the Gryffindor common room.

The Fat Lady's ripped canvas had been taken off the wall and replaced with the portrait of Sir Cadogan; a short, squat knight in a suit of armor who was always accompanied by his not so loyal pony.

And to say that nobody was happy about this was a understatement. Sir Cadogan spent half his time challenging people to duels before using the rest of his time thinking up ridiculously complicated passwords, which he changed at least twice a day.

No one was allowed to go to Hogsmead that first Saturday of November and while everyone was unhappy about this, Sir Cadogan's antics seemed to make all Gryffindors more miserable than all the other students.

James had yet to come back from his so called hunt but, thankful, the teachers had also not found him, which was good. This knowledge was the only thing keeping Harry from panicking.

"Someone needs to do something about him!" Dean Thomas complained to Percy, his irritated bring Harry out of her thoughts.

The small green-eyed girl looked up from her runes dictionary to see a group of Gryffindors surrounding Percy, who had been trying to not look intimidated.

"He's a complete lunatic," Seamus Finnigan said angrily.

"Can't we get anyone else?" Lavender Brown whined.

The others voiced their agreement.

"None of the other pictures wanted the job," Percy explained. "They're all frightened after what happened to the Fat Lady. Sir Cadogan was the only one brave enough to volunteer."

None of the Gryffindors cared about it and more and more complains started to be raised until it was almost impossible to understand a single word that was being said. Poor Percy tried but he wasn't able to calm the crowd down (The Head Girl, Harry noted, was completely useless and stayed on a far corner, merely watching the whole thing beside her friend).

"What's this? A riot?" Fred asked as he leaned against the armchair Harry was using.

George leaned on the other side of the side, copying his brother pose perfectly, "And no one called us to participate?"

"How mean." They pouted.

Harry rolled her eyes with a small smile on her face, closing her runes dictionary and clutching it to her chest.

"What can I do for you two?" She asked.

"Why, Harrykins," Fred gave her a hurtful look, "do you always think that we want something when we come to you?"

George sighed, "We could have missed you."

She gave them a _look_.

"But seriously," Fred said, "we don't want anything."

George nodded, "We just came to warn you that Quidditch Practice will be on Wednesday."

"_Only_ on Wednesday?" Harry gave them a doubtful look.

That didn't sound like something Oliver Wood would do. The Keeper and Captain of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team was obsessed with winning and he would do anything to archive that, _especially_ torturing his teammates with _daily_ training; starting very, very early in the morning.

"Well," Fred started listing on his fingers, "There will be another practice on Friday."

"And after that, another one on Monday –" George made a motion with his hand.

"– and then one on Tuesday –"

"– which will be followed by another one on Thursday –"

"– and then the last practice will be on Saturday before the game." They said together before making a face, "Can you believe that our dear Capitan didn't think that would be enough for us to win?"

The small girl rolled her eyes again.

Yes, Harry could believe it.

"Hey, Harry?" Fred called her, making the girl look up at him. "Why're you here alone? Is rare to see that those days…"

She blinked, "Oh, well… Neville is at the Herbology Clu –"

The thirteen years old girl was cut off a strangled scream echoing down the boys' staircase. The whole common room fell silent, turned around and stared, completely petrified, at the entrance. Some of the other students reached out for their wands, ready to attack if necessary.

Then came hurried footsteps, growing louder and louder – Several people sighed in relief when Ron came leaping into view, dragging a bedsheet.

The twins exchanged a look, wondering what had happened now to invoke their little brother's anger.

"LOOK!" The red-haired Third Year bellowed, striding over to the table that Hermione had been using at the corner of the common room.

She looked up from her books, startled and confused. On the chair beside hers, her cat started hissing and spitting, puffing up his fur until he looked like he had been electrocuted.

"LOOK!" Ron shouted again, shaking the sheets in the bushy haired witch's face.

Hermione gave him a look, "Ron, what –?"

He cut her off, his face gaining a shade of purple that reminded Harry of Uncle Vernon when the man had been angry about something.

"SCABBERS!" Ron yelled, "_LOOK! _SCABBERS!"

Hermione was leaning away from Ron as she, slowly, looked down at the sheet he was holding. Harry and several others did the same to see something red on it – Something that looked like –

"_BLOOD!_" Ron yelled into the stunned silence. "HE'S GONE! AND YOU KNOW WHAT WAS ON THE FLOOR?!"

"Ro –"

"DO YOU?!"

"N-No," Hermione replied, her voice trembling as tears appeared on the corner of her eyes.

"_This!_" Ron spat, thrown something down at Hermione's feet.

Almost afraid of what she would find, Hermione leaned forward to see several long, ginger cat hairs – Hairs that were exactly like Crookshanks'.

Hermione gasped while everyone else winced, guessing that Crookshanks had finally caught Ron's pet rat Scabbers.

"Your pet monstrosity _ate _my rat!" Ron accused, enraged.

Hermione shook her head, defending her cat by suggesting that the ginger hairs could have belonged to another cat. After that, the two started one of those shouting matches that everyone else was already used to.

Their fight didn't last long as a exhausted, both emotionally and physically, Hermione snapped, "Leave me alone Ronald, I've got a lot of work to do!"

Huffing, and trying to hold back her tears, the witch grabbed her books and ran to the girls' staircase, being followed by Crookshanks.

Ron watched her go with a growl, opening his mouth to scream again but he was cut off by Percy.

"Ronald," The older Weasley boy approached him, "That's enough. What's done is done."

Ron made a sound like a little like who was just told that he couldn't have candy before dinner, "But –"

"Come on, Ron, you were always saying how boring Scabbers was," Fred said bracingly. "And he was too old anyway way. It was probably better for him to snuff it quickly –"

"– one swallow really –" George made a gesture with his hand to illustrate his point.

Fred continued, "– he probably didn't feel a thing."

"Fred! George!" Ginny Weasley, who had been sitting with her friends, snapped indignantly at her brothers.

They ignored her.

"All Scabbers did was eat and sleep, Ron, you said it yourself," George said.

"He bit Goyle once!" Ron said miserably.

Harry snorted, recalling that day. It had been pretty funny.

"His finest hour," Fred said dryly, unable to keep a straight face.

Fred and George looked up, clapping their hands together, "Let us all see the scar on Goyle's finger as a lasting tribute to Scabbers' memory." They said solemnly, "That Scabbers the Great may rest in piec – _ahem_ – peace."

Harry placed a hand over her mouth to hide her smile when several Gryffindors imitated the twins, some of them even singing for the newly departed Scabbers or muttering an amused _Amen_.

Fred looked at his disgruntled little brother, "Oh, come on, Ron, get yourself down to Hogsmeade on Saturday and buy a new rat, what's the point of moaning?"

"Actually," George prompted, "Get yourself a cat so another pet of yours won't end up as dinner again."

Ron looked at Percy and Ginny, expecting them to say something but all the other two did was nod in agreement with the twins. The younger red-haired boy let out a scream at the lack of support and threw his hands up, turning on his heels and stomping back to his dorm.

Harry was shaking her head at the whole thing when she felt a familiar weight over shoulder. Immediately, the small girl perked up as fingers tapped her shoulder; _Come on_.

"Hey, Harry, where are you going?!" George asked as she stood up from her chair, throwing her book inside her bag.

"Library!" The raven haired witch yelled over her shoulder in reply as she ran out of the common room.

Harry ran until she reached one of the few corridors in the castle where there were no portraits.

"James," She asked, taking a deep breath, "Where have you been?!" Harry glared at the man as he pulled the hood of her Invisibility Cloak down.

Her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle smiled charmingly, "Hunting."

The small girl crossed her arms and gave him a _look_.

"I swear," He insisted and opened his mouth to continue with his excuse (Explanation, whatever) but was interrupted by a squeak.

Both of them stared at each other.

"…what was that?" Harry asked slowly.

James glare down and moved as if grabbing something and then took a familiar old grey rat from the pocket the jacket he was wearing under her Cloak. As she stared at the rat, Harry absentmindedly noticed that there was blood on the knuckles of her Great-Uncle's prosthetic hand.

"Why do you have the supposed dead Scabbers?" Harry asked, more curious than accusing.

James squeezed the rat until it stopped trying to free itself and placed his other hand over shoulder.

"You'll see." James said, gently pushing Harry forward.

The two of them made their way down the corridor before walking through another maze of corridors, avoiding any portrait and moving statue. They only stopped when they reached one of the several unused classrooms that could be found in the castle.

James opened the door of the classroom and Harry stepped inside it, freezing when she saw a man tied to a chair. He was bleeding and there were bruises all over his body.

Harry stared, immediately recognizing the bound and beaten up man.

James had captured Sirius Black.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**

**TIMELINE!**

**March 10, 1917 – **_James Buchanan Barnes is born_

**December 2, 1931 – **_Rebecca Evans née Barnes is born_

**January 30, 1974 –** _Lily Potter née Evans is born_

**March 27, 1974 **_**–**_ _James Potter is born_

**April, 19, 1974 –** _Sirius Black IV is born_

**July 31, 1995 –** _Charis Aster Potter is born_

**October 31, 1996 –** _James and Lily Potter are murdered_

**June 18, 2008 – **_Hogwarts Express leaves back to London_; _End of Harry's Second Year._

*****_Harry first meets the man with ice-blue eyes; she later names him James._

**July 5, 2008 – **_James has his first Healer appointment_

*****_Harry meets Augusta Longbottom and learns about Neville's parents_

*****_James learns his name is James Buchanan Barnes_

**July 31, 2008 – **_Harry's Thirteenth Birthday_

*****_James gifts Harry with his family tapestry and she learns that she's his Great-Niece_

**August 4, 2008 – **_Aunt Marge's visit_

*****_Harry and James move to Rosewood's Mews_

**September 1, 2008 –** _Back to Hogwarts; Harry's Third Year _**(**Monday**)**

**September 2, 2008 –** _First Day of Classes_ **(**Tuesday**)**

**September 4, 2008 –** _Boggarts Lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts _**(**Thursday**)**

**October 6, 2008 –** _Neville says he traded Divination for Ancient Runes _**(**Monday**)**

**October 31, 2008 – **_Halloween_ **(**Friday**)**

*****_Augusta Longbottom sends Neville a Howler about the change in his electives_

*****_James sees something in the Marauders' Map and disappears for a while_

*****_Neville gets a new wand_

*****_Sirius Black attacks the Fat Lady_

**November 1, 2008 –** _First Hogsmaed Visit is cancelled._ **(**Saturday**)**

*****_Scabbers was supposedly eaten by Crookshanks_

*****_James takes Harry to one of hidden rooms at Hogwarts; he has captured Sirius Black_


	12. Chapter 12

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry._

**Just a warning: **_FemHarry__, AU, Language, Clichés, __Age Difference, __Messed Time Line, More in the Future_

**Just so you know (Name): **_FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. __In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from a Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is a Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits._

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 12. A Serious Matter**

"You captured Sirius Black?" Harry asked James, tearing her eyes away from said escaped convict.

"I think you know the answer to this question, doll." James said, amused.

Harry flushed.

Right, silly her.

At the same time, Black seemed to wake up from whatever stupor that he had been stuck in upon seeing Harry and James stepping into the room and practically shouted, "Little Star…?"

The raven-haired witch blinked, startled.

What had he just called her?

Black's grey eyes blinked quickly, as if he was just waking up, "What're you doing here, Harry?! Get away from him!"

Slowly, the thirteen years old gave her Great-Uncle a confused look.

Why was Black telling her to get away if he wanted her dead?

"So, er –" She made a motion to the still screaming Black who was now trashing in his chair trying to get free.

It was rather impressive how he was still moving like that when he was bleeding all over. He must have had some incredibly pain tolerance.

"I caught him just after the whole confusion in your dorm yesterday." Her long haired Great-Uncle said, sending a side look at Black.

The escaped convict, for his part, had finally decided to stop his futile attempts of freeing himself and was now staring at the two of them with a scowl on his face. There was a mix of emotions in his grey eyes, from confusion to irritation, but Harry didn't stop to think about what they could mean to her. Instead, she was more interested in understanding what would be happening now.

"Are you handing him over to the Aurors now?" The thirteen years old girl asked, eying Black with caution.

James clicked his tongue, "Not yet." At the look on her face, he continued, "He said a few things while I was _questioning _him –" Uh, huh. _Questioning_…_ Right_… "– and I want to know more before I decide to kill him."

Harry wasn't even surprised at his choice of killing Black instead of handing him over to the authorities. It wasn't difficult to understand what was going on in her Great-Uncle's head. After all, if Black escaped from prison once then there was a big possibility of him escaping again.

She didn't like it nor did she approve of this decision, but James won't change his mind. Especially not when her safety was involved.

"What did he say?" Harry asked cautiously, making a pause before a thought hit her, "Wait – Does it have anything to do with Scabbers?" Her eyes flicked to the rat held tightly by James's metal hand.

"Apparently," The ice-blue eyed man said. "This is Peter Pettigrew."

The small girl stared.

"Say what now?" She blinked a few times before recalling one of Professor McGonagall's lectures at the beginning of the year, "_Oh_... He's a Animagus?"

With a proud tilt of his lips at her quick thinking, James took out the Marauders' Map out of the pocket of his coat and handed it to her. Harry ignored how Black's eyes widened with recognition when he saw the parchment (She would think about it later) and grabbed her wand, muttering the password.

And there it was; _Peter Pettigrew _was written beside James's name.

Harry felt a little sick.

She had already known that Pettigrew had been alive (The whole thing with only his finger surviving the explosion that supposedly killed him just didn't make sense to her) but to think that a man who was in thirties had been sleeping in the same bed as Percy and then Ron…

…it was nauseating.

Emerald green eyes closed as the girl tried to banish those thoughts from her mind. She really, really didn't want to think about Pettigrew being in the boys' dormitory for so long, especially not when she recalled that _Neville's_ bed was just next to Ron's.

"Ok," The small girl took a deep breath, refusing to look at the rat. "_Ok_. So what more did Black say?" She asked quickly, "Were they working together or something and Black decided to get revenge when Pettigrew betrayed him?"

It would explain why Black had gone to the boys' dorm instead of trying to enter the girls' dorm to look for her.

Before James could reply, Black screamed, "NO!"

The rat who was actually a man squeaked in terror, watery eyes staring at Black. James and Harry turned to look at the escaped convict, the former with an cold expression while the later seemed stunned.

"No?" Harry repeated slowly, "So you didn't confess to have been involved in my parents' murder?" She asked, tense. That was what she had heard.

Black flinched as though she had punched him. His face twisted and his sunken eyes seemed over bright with unshed tears.

"Little Star…" He croaked, staring at her.

James pursued his lips at the way the escaped convict was looking at her and reached for his gun but Harry touched his arm, stopping him.

She wanted to hear what Black had to say.

"I as good as killed them," The grey-eyed man continued, letting out a sob. "I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret-Keeper instead of me… I was involved in their murder – It was my fault… I know that…" He shook his head as if to banish the memories from his mind, "The night your parents died, I'd arranged to check on Peter to make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he was gone."

Harry crossed her arms as he paused, taking another deep breath. She really wanted to lash out and panic, to deny everything and just blame both him and Pettigrew for her parents' murder but she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

Black was being truthful.

The dark haired escaped convict continued, "Peter was gone but there was no sign of struggle, no blood, _nothing_. Something just didn't feel right." Black hunched his shoulders, "I was scared and started panicking – Had I been wrong? I thought… Was Peter the spy, _the traitor_, that had been giving us so many problems?" He licked his dry lips before he continued, "I immediately set out for your parents' house after that and… and when I found their house destroyed, and… and their bodies…"

Harry closed her eyes for a second at this, leaning against her Great-Uncle when he stepped closer to her.

"...I finally felt the weight of what _my decisions _did…" Black's voice broke and he looked down, "…It was my fault… Lily and James were _gone_ and it was _all my fault_…" He looked like her, "You have to believe me, Harry… I would have died before betraying your parents."

There was a moment of silence that was only broken by the squeaks coming from Scabbers the Animagus.

"What about Azkaban?" Harry found herself asking, "How did you escape it? Did you use some kind of Black Magic?"

"And why now?" James asked, eying Black as if trying to decide if he should still kill him even though it was clear that her cousin hadn't been after her.

Black shook his head and gave her a wide eyed look, "It wasn't Dark Magic! I would never!"

Wisely, the small witch kept her mouth shut. That wasn't the kind of Magic that she had been talking about...

There was a difference between _Black_ and _Dark_ Magic. He should have known that – It was one of the first things they learned in Magical Theory back in their First Year. But that wasn't important right now…

She turned her attention back to Black as he replied slowly, "I… I don't know how I did it, not really…" He gulped. "Look… I think the only reason why I never lost my mind in that place was that I knew I was innocent. It wasn't a happy thought, so the Dementors couldn't suck it out of me… but it kept me sane and knowing that and… it…" Back made a pause, thinking about it, "… it helped me keep some control over my magic so when it all became too much I... I could transform in my cell… and become a dog…" Black swallowed, "…You see, the Dementors ignores animals… Humans and animals don't feel the same way… so, as a dog, I was ignored…"

Harry blinked and exchanged a look with James.

That explained a lot about why he hadn't been found yet and why the Dementors had been having so much problem to find him.

Black continued, "The Aurors and everyone else didn't know that… They thought that I was losing my mind like everyone else inside that hellhole… Well," He laughed bitterly, "I was. But not like the others…" Black shook his head, "They would usually talk to me about recent news or give me the paper… That was how I learned about Peter, and I… I realized that _he was at Hogwarts with Harry_…" The escaped convict smiled bitterly, "At that moment, it was as if someone had lit a fire inside my head, a fire that the Dementors couldn't take from me… After all," Black gave a short, bitter laugh, "it wasn't a happy feeling, it was more like a obsession – A obsession that gave me strength. So, one night when the Dementors opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog… They didn't even notice… I somehow found an exit and swam back to the mainland as a dog… Then, I was finally free…"

There was a moment of silence. Black took a deep breath. Harry didn't think that he had spoken so much in the last twelve years.

"The first thing I did was look for you," He informed Harry. "But you weren't at your relatives' house… There was no one there actually…"

The green-eyed girl made a face, "I know nothing…"

James rolled his eyes fondly, lips twitching up.

The wizard looked like he wanted to ask about it but refrained from doing so and, instead, said, "When I didn't find you, I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts' grounds as a dog… I've been living in the forest ever since, waiting for the right opportunity to get to Peter… I got it when I heard some Gryffindor's girls complaining about the password. You know the rest…" He sent a look at James, "This guy captured me and… _questioned _me." James smiled charmingly, managing to make it look dangerous. "And now we're here."

"Ok…" Harry said slowly, feeling a little overwhelmed at all the information. She thought for a while, trying to decide what to do next before asking, "What about Pettigrew?"

"I'm going to kill him, of course." Black growled, glaring the loudly squeaking rat.

She sent a _look_ at James who sighed. He immediately understood what she wanted.

"You're too kind, doll." He said.

Harry gave him a light smile, "He deserves to explain his side of the history – Besides, I want to know." She then spoke to the escaped convict, "Mr. Black, do you know the spell to revert the Animagus transformation?"

Professor McGonagall had spoken about it but she never taught them the spell.

Black looked at her with poorly disguised disbelief, "You want to talk to Peter?! He doesn't deserve it!"

"Everyone deserves a chance," The thirteen years old frowned a little.

"Not him!" He snarled at the rat, baring his teeth.

James narrowed his eyes.

"Mr. Black," Harry said patiently. "Do you know the spell?"

He opened and closed his mouth before pressing his lips together into a thin line, "Yes." Before she could ask him what it was, he spoke quickly, "I'll do it!"

The raven haired girl hesitated to reply. She didn't think that was a good idea. He would more likely strangle the man turned rat instead of giving him a chance to speak.

"Give her the spell," James demanded, grasping Black's shoulder with enough strength to break the bone.

"I can do it," Black snarled at James. The man really stupid or extremely brave.

Her Great-Uncle stared, unimpressed, "The spell."

"Are you even hearing me you –"

Harry decided to intervene when she heard a familiar click coming from James's gun.

"Mr. Black," Harry said, making the two men look at her, "The spell, _please_."

Black stared at her before sighing, "_Animagi Revelio_," He said. "Merely point your wand at the Animal and make a very small and slow clockwise motion with your wand."

Harry grabbed her wand and pointed it at the struggling rat. Just as James let the rat go, Harry carefully followed Black's instructions and a flash of blue-white light erupted from her wand.

For a moment, Scabbers' small gray form started twisting madly _then_ – It was like watching a speeded-up video of a growing tree.

Harry made a disgusted sound as a head shot upward from the ground, limbs sprouted and, seconds later, a man was standing where Scabbers had been, cringing and wringing his hands nervously.

Making a motion for her to get away from the rat-turned-man, James took out the other gun he always carried with him and pointed at the man.

Harry immediately obeyed her Great-Uncle's silent order, stepping back and eying the rat-turned-man.

He was a very short man, hardly taller than Harry herself. His thin, colorless hair was unkempt and there was a large bald patch on top. He had the shrunken appearance of a plump man who had lost a lot of weight in a short time and his skin looked grubby, almost like Scabbers's fur, and something of the rat lingered around his pointed nose, his very small, watery eyes and larger than normal front teeth.

He kept staring at Black, either ignoring or not noticing Harry and James. He was breathing fast and shallow, his eyes darting to the door and back again. Unfortunately for him, escape wasn't an option since James was the one standing closer to the door and there was no way that the dark haired man would let the rat-man escape.

Well, at least not with his life.

"Hello, Peter," Black gave a wild, dog-like grin. "Long time no see, _traitor_."

"S–Sirius…" Peter Pettigrew stuttered in a squeaky voice, eyes darting toward the door. "My friend… my old friend..."

Black snarled like some kind of wild dog. Hadn't he been tied to a chair he would have jumped and thrown himself at the other man.

"What a disgusting little vermin," James eyed the rat-man as if wondering what was the best way to kill him.

Finally noticing the ice-blue eyed man, Pettigrew squeaked again and Harry could see beads of sweat breaking out over his pasty face.

"M-My good man," Both Harry and James snorted at that. "Y-You can't believe anything he says…" Watery-blue eyes flicked to the windows and then back to the door, "H-He lies!"

"LIE? _LIE?! WHY YOU –_" Black was cut off by James as the man reached out to hit on the back of his head.

Harry winced.

Ouch – Even she felt that.

"Really now?" James said dryly. "If he lies then why were you hiding away as a rat?"

_Innocent men do not hide for twelve years_, Harry completed his line of thought.

"I needed to hide!" Pettigrew said, "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

Harry looked at him in disbelief.

Did he really think that anyone would believe that?

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew continued, shouting shrilly. "How else did he get out of Azkaban? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Black started to laugh. It was a horrible, mirthless laugh that filled the whole room, "_Voldemort? _Teach _me_ tricks?"

At the name, Pettigrew paled and flinched.

"_What_, scared to hear your old master's name?" Black asked mockingly when he saw the other man's reaction. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

James put his second gun away. Harry twitched when he reached out for one his hidden knives. Her Great-Uncle was getting annoyed with this school friends reunion.

The witch noticed how James was examining his knife, as if trying to decide if he should use it now or later.

_Is that a ticking bomb I'm hearing? _Harry thought with dark humor.

She was honestly surprised that he hadn't shot Black or Pettigrew yet.

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius –" muttered Pettigrew, his breathing faster than ever. His whole face was shining with sweat now.

Black cut him off, "You haven't been hiding from me for twelve years," He explained. "You've been hiding from Voldemort's old supporters. I heard things in Azkaban, Peter... They all think you're dead, or you'd have to answer to them... I've heard them screaming all sorts of things in their sleep. Sounds like they think the double-crosser double-crossed them."

Pettigrew started shaking even more.

"Voldemort went to the Potters' on _your_ information…" Black went on, "...and Voldemort met his downfall there. And not all Voldemort's supporters ended up in Azkaban, did they? There are still plenty out there who're biding their time, pretending they've seen the error of their ways… If they ever got wind that you were still alive, Peter –"

"Don't know… what you're talking about…" Pettigrew repeated, wiping his face with the tattered sleeve of his robes.

Harry shook her head slightly when James looked at Pettigrew. The man pursued his lips but nodded, understanding that he needed to wait a little more before doing anything. Harry wanted to hear what those two had to say – She wanted to understand why Pettigrew had betrayed her parents.

"Don't you?" Bacl growled, "You disgusting little traitor –"

"I wasn't the traitor – the spy! " Pettigrew squeaked loudly, "That was _you_; Sirius Black!"

Black's face contorted with fury, "How dare you! _I_? A spy for _Voldemort_? When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you did that, Peter, all the time." He snorted, "I'll never understand why I didn't see that you were the spy from the start. You always liked big friends who'd look after you, didn't you? It used to be us; me, Remus… and James…"

Pettigrew wiped his face again; he was almost panting for breath.

"_Me_, a spy…" Pettigrew muttered. "You must be out of your mind… I would never –"

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because _I_ suggested it," Black hissed, so venomously that Pettigrew took a step backward. "I thought it was the perfect plan, the perfect bluff… After all, who would have thought that the Potters would use a weak, talentless thing like you?"

Shaking his head in denial, Pettigrew kept muttering distractedly while his eyes flicking constantly toward the windows and the door.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort," Black, who was now shaking with fury growled, his voice getting louder and louder at each word that came out of his mouth. "Do you deny it?"

Pettigrew burst into tears and shook his head once more. Harry wrinkled her nose at the picture he made; it was like an oversized, balding baby.

The rat-man opened his mouth but all he could do was squeak when he noticed James staring at him with cold and emotionless ice-blue eyes.

That was he needed to make him to stop deny his involvement in her parents' murder, "Sirius, _Sirius_ – what could I have done? The Dark Lord…" His eyes widened in terror, "…I was scared, Sirius – I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen… But – But He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me –"

"DON'T LIE!" Black bellowed, "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"H-He was taking over everywhere!" Pettigrew squeaked, "W-What was there to be gained by refusing him?"

James sneered.

Gripping the hem of her skirt with trembling hands, Harry shook her head in disbelief at what she was hearing. _That _was why her parents died? Because their supposed friend was a coward? That was it?

She took a deep breath as her eyes burned with unshed tears.

Her parents didn't deserve this.

"You know what?" Black snarled, looking at James now, "Let me go! Let me go so I can kill this traitor!"

At Black's words, Pettigrew seemed to finally notice her presence. Dramatically, he threw himself to his knees, staggered forward, and seized the hem of Harry's robes, much to the girl's horror and disgust.

"Harry… Sweet girl…" He said, _pleaded_.

Harry pulled her robes out of the rat-man's clutching hands and backed away.

Unfortunately, he followed her, trembling uncontrollably as he outstretched his hands.

"Harry… Harry… Please, save me… Your mother and father would have forgiven me –"

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?" Black roared. Hadn't he been tied to a chair, he would have thrown himself at Pettigrew. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HER?! HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT LILY AND JAMES IN FRONT TO HER?!"

There was a familiar click.

"Harry," Pettigrew whispered, shuffling close to her. "Harry, your parents would have understood – Lily would have shown me mercy –"

Black stopped screaming and trashing in his chair when Pettigrew let out a wail of pain, clutching his now bleeding leg as he fell against the floor.

Harry took a deep breath and relaxed as James placed himself in front of her and shot one, two – _three_ more times. The green-eyed girl leaned to the side a little so she could see Pettigrew lying in a growing pool of his blood.

She winced when James approached the man, held his head by the little tuff of hair that he this had and slammed the rat-man's face against the floor with enough force to break something (And James did break something, or at least several somethings. There was no mistaking the sounds of broken bones).

"He's going to bleed to death," Harry blurted out before she could stop herself.

Her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle gave her a _look_ which, in James-speak, meant _Good, he'll suffer then_.

Black stared at James with wide grey eyes which flicked from the other man's face to his gun and then back again. It was like couldn't believe what he had just seen.

The small girl wondered if the escaped convict even knew what a gun was. Not many wizards did, especially not purebloods.

"James," Harry tucked the sleeve of his coat as he raised his gun once more. "James you can't kill him."

"Kill him, kill him," Black chanted under his breath.

He was ignored.

"James," The thirteen years old repeated calmly. "You can't kill him." When long haired man gave her another look, she added, "We need him so we can prove Mr. Black's innocence." Harry said.

Black perked up and she smiled kindly at him.

The man deserved his freedom and Pettigrew had to be punished for his crimes. Handing the rat-man over to the Aurors was the right thing to do.

"Fine," James sighed, lowering his gun.

Harry smiled lightly at her Great-Uncle. She knew how difficult it must have been for him to agree with her. The man would have preferred to just make Pettigrew suffer a little before killing him and then throwing the body somewhere where people would find it.

"Thank you!" The small witch said as he moved to stop Pettigrew from bleeding to death.

The ice-blue eyed man gave her a half-fond, half-exasperated look. Slowly, he sighed with a smile.

"Anything for you, doll." James said.

Harry beamed.

"You know what this means don't you?" Black asked abruptly to Harry, staring at her with intense grey eyes.

She turned away from her Great-Uncle and blinked at the man, confused.

"I'm sorry," She said politely, "what?"

"Turning Pettigrew in – You know what that means right?" He asked.

The green eyed girl stared, trying to understand what he meant. Standing up, James narrowed his eyes, jaw set and muscles tense.

After a moment or two, she finally realized what he meant and gave him a sweet smile, "I know – You'll be free." She said, "Congratulations."

Black gave her a weak smile in return, "Yes, I'll but… I – Well, I don't know if you're aware but I'm your godfather."

That took her by surprise.

She knew that they were cousins because her paternal Grandmother, Dorea Potter née Black, had been his Great-Aunt (Something that she only learned by eavesdropping on some of the teachers' conversations at the beginning of the year). But she hadn't known that he was actually her godfather – Actually, she didn't even know that she had a godfather nor had she expected to have one. Not one alive anyway…

"No," Harry said faintly, shaking her head. "I didn't know that…"

She made a pause, feeling rather unsure about what she should say or how she should feel at this revelation.

"Well, I'm your godfather and your parents appointed me as your guardian if –" Black pursued his lips. "– if anything happened to them…"

Biting her bottom lip, Harry eyed him as he paused, wondering where he was going with this. She blinked up at James when the ice-blue eyed man grasped her shoulder, gripping it tightly as if she was going to disappear.

Black continued, "I'll understand, of course, if you want to stay with your aunt and uncle –"

_Wait a minute_, Harry thought as she finally understood exactly where he was going with this and why her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle looked to be torn between shooting Black between his eyes and hiding her away from the world.

The raven haired girl cut him off, "I don't live with them," She blurted out, "I live with Uncle James. So er –"

It was really nice to know that her godfather wanted her. He was someone that her parents had called a friend once and he was her cousin so Harry wanted to get to know him.

But –

"You don't want to leave him." Black said bitterly. It seemed like he wanted to say something else but he refrained from doing so.

James's hand relaxed a little while Harry smiled lightly, relieved that the escaped convict understood the situation without her having to explain in a very awkward manner.

"Why?" The grey-eyed man asked, practically glaring James who wasn't even try to mask how smug he felt at the moment.

For a moment, the thirteen years old felt like she was intruding in some kind of pissing match or whatever it was called.

_Men_, Harry thought, rolling her eyes and pitching the bridge of her nose before giving her distant cousin-turned-godfather a patient look.

"Because he's family," She explained gently. "You don't leave family behind Mr. Black." The black haired man avoided her eyes at that, looking pained. Harry continued, "Also, I don't know you. Even if James didn't existed, I would have liked to get to know you first before even thinking of living with you."

It wasn't a lie. After all, even if she had still been trapped at the Dursleys' home, Harry won't have taken this opportunity immediately. Maybe as a child she would have, but not now.

First because she had no idea of what kind of person Black was. And second because after so many years in Azkaban, the man needed a good mind-healer – Correction: He needed a good mind-healer, a warm meal, some rest and time to think about what he wanted from his life from now on.

"How's _he_ family?" Black muttered, petulantly, "I'm your godfather."

"And he is my mom's Uncle." Harry informed him as gentle as she could, not missing the way he curled on his chair, knitting his brows in confusion, "He's _my_ Uncle."

There was a brief moment of silence. Black seemed to be processing her words. When he looked like he wanted to speak though, the small girl cut him off.

"You can come to visit if you want." Harry suggested.

James scrunched his face at that but she ignored him, smiling at Black who looked at her with hopeful eyes.

"You want me to visit you?" Black asked, "You mean it?"

"Yeah, I mean it!" The witch nodded.

Black's gaunt face broke into the first true smile Harry had seen upon it. Until now, he had only given her fake or sad smiles that were filled with shame and guilty. Now, however, that smile was full of life and the difference it made was startling, as though he had de-aged ten years before her eyes.

At that moment, he looked like the man who had been laughing at her parents' wedding picture.

"I would like that." Black said softly, relaxing a little.

Harry elbowed her Great-Uncle when the dark haired man complained in Russian under his breath. She didn't need to know the language to understand the tone of his voice.

"Good," She smiled kindly at her godfather. "Then all we need to do now is send Pettigrew to the Aurors."

As one, the trio turned to look at the unconscious rat-man.

"How're we doing that though?" Harry grumbled, scowling as she tried to think of a way of handing the rat-man to the authorities.

"Don't worry about that, doll," James smiled dangerously, "Leave it to me."

Black stared at James, there was something into those grey-eyes which made it clear that he was wondering if he should be happy that the other man was going to deal with the traitor (Which meant more pain for Pettigrew) or if he should pity the guy. The first option must have won because the escaped convict grinned gleefully.

On the dirty floor of the room, Pettigrew twitched, as if he was sensing the danger he was in.

**Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM.**

**-Cissnei.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry. _

**Just a warning:** _FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Age Difference, Messed Time Line, More in the Future _

**Just so you know (Name):** _FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from an Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is an Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits. _

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 13. Merry Christmas, Little Star**

**THE WIZENGAMOT'S GREATEST MISTAKE**

_The Wizengamot, the wizarding Britain's high court of law and parliament, has never been known to make a mistake regarding the citizens of our country, writes Rita Skeeter, Special Correspondent. In November of this year, however, this has been proven to be incorrect._

_For the surprise of all, it has been found that Sirius Black, the most infamous prisoner – and the only who escaped – from Azkaban, was never granted a trial by the Wizengamot twelve years ago and, instead, was immediately thrown in a dark cell –_

Harry lowered the paper, not bothering to finish reading the article.

She knew everything that was written there, including how Peter Pettigrew was found alive in Hogsmeade; bleeding to death in an alley from several holes in his body (That was exactly the words used by the reporter to describe the bullet wounds left by James) and how he could no longer walk after _someone_ (Read: James) cut off his legs, leaving him to bleed to death in Hogsmeade.

At Hogwarts, all the students could talk about was about the trial Black and Pettigrew would be undergoing in December. They also didn't waste time to gossip or speculate about Harry's supposed involvement in everything that was going on, going as far as saying that she had helped Black hunt down Pettigrew and that she had later been the one to cut off the man-rat's legs.

It was ridiculous but she had expected such a thing from them. Actually, the small witch would have been surprised if no conspiracy theory or rumor had been made.

"So the trial will be held in December?" She heard Neville ask Fred and George as the four of them (plus her invisible Great-Uncle) walked in the direction of the Quidditch pitch.

Finally, after all the training they had gone through, the day of their first game of the year had arrived.

Despite how excited she was, Harry couldn't help but feel a little nervous.

This would be the first game James would be watching and she wanted to win, wanted to show off a little to her only family member.

"Are you alright, Harrykins?" Fred asked her, frowning with worry as he noticed how pale she was.

Feeling a familiar invisible hand grab her shoulder gently, she gave the older boy a small smile and rubbed her hands together.

"It's nothing," She assured him, "I'm just a little cold."

It wasn't a lie per se; she _was_ cold.

"_It's _colder than normal," Neville whispered, adjusting the scarf around his neck.

Actually, it wasn't even December yet and the weather had worsened from cold to glacial cold. Hadn't it been for magic and Potions, which helped all them warm up, Harry won't have been surprised to see the Hospital Wing filled with sick students.

"I don't care about it," George muttered, "I'm just happy that it isn't raining. Our dear Capitan would have a tantrum if the game was cancelled because of bad weather."

Harry scoffed playfully, "As if a game would ever be cancelled."

Such was the popularity of Quidditch, that the only thing that could keep a game from happening was either an alien invasion or the apocalypse. Not even that if the more fanatical fans of the game had any say on it.

Harry was pulled out of her thoughts by George's voice. It took her a moment to understand that she had missed part of the conversation and, by that point, and the twins were now explaining how Sirius Black had ended in the custody of the _Department of Magical Law and Enforcement_.

"Dad said that he walked in as if he owned the place." George said, opening his arms wide and walking lazily as if to demonstrate how Black had done it.

Harry giggled while Neville snorted.

Fred took the paper Harry still had in her hands, scanning the pictures of Black and Pettigrew, "He didn't have much to fear since Pettigrew had already been found and Madam Bones is the one in charge of this case."

"Had it been someone else, things would have been different." The twins muttered together, scowling.

Harry nodded in agreement.

Hadn't James thrown Pettigrew in Hogsmeade where _everyone_ could see him and hadn't that forced Madam Bones to step in and start investigating things properly, then Minister Fudge would have found a way to keep things under warps and get rid of Pettigrew just to keep the lie that her godfather was to blame for her parents' death.

She did wonder how James was able to not only take Pettigrew to Hogsmeade without anyone noticing or how he had helped Black sneak into the Ministry the day after.

Unfortunately, her Great-Uncle wasn't talking; no matter how many times she asked. The insufferable man merely smirked and said something about soldiers and secrets.

Harry loved her Great-Uncle with all her heart, but he could be so annoying sometimes (Not that she complained about it. She was always happy to see him act to carefree. It didn't happen often).

The four friends made their way to the chilly locker room on the edge of the darkening Quidditch field where Oliver Wood, the Captain of the Gryffindor team, was trying to make a role on the floor. Neville sat down in the back (something that Harry thought James copied) while Harry and the twins joined the others members of the team.

There were seven people on a Quidditch team: three Chasers, whose job it was to score goals by putting the Quaffle (a red, soccer-sized ball) through one of the fifty-foot-high hoops at each end of the field; two Beaters, who were equipped with heavy bats to repel the Bludgers (two heavy black balls that zoomed around trying to attack the players); a Keeper, who defended the goal posts, and the Seeker, who had the hardest job of all, that of catching the Golden Snitch, a tiny, winged, walnut-sized ball, whose capture ended the game and earned the Seeker's team an extra one hundred and fifty points.

And, ever since her First Year, Harry was the Seeker of the Gryffindor team.

Oliver stopped pacing a little after Neville sat down, turning to look at the team with pure desperation in his eyes. He almost looked like the cat from Shrek as he did so.

"Ok, everyone –"

"Here it comes," The twins muttered, sharing a look filled with mirth. "He is panicking."

Harry shook her head; a _panicked_ Oliver was a _dramatic _Oliver.

"This is our last chance – _my last chance_ – to win the Quidditch Cup," The members of the team rolled their eyes fondly as he started striding up and down in front of them like he had been doing before. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year which means that I'll never get another shot at it." Oliver took a deep and shuddering breath as if trying to not burst into tears at the thought, "Gryffindor hasn't won for seven years now –" He ranted, "And okay, _fine_, so we've had the worst luck in the world –"

"Just a little," Fred snickered at his brother's words.

The duo looked at her, as if blaming Harry. The small girl puffed her cheeks, glaring at the two red-heads.

It wasn't her fault!

They arched their eyebrows, as if reading her mind.

Harry resisted the urge of stomping her feet angrily and looked away, crossing her arms.

Again: It wasn't her fault (Even if she was involved, or was the main victim, every time something strange or unlucky happened during a game)!

The twins, being mean as they were, snickered.

Oliver was still talking, "_But _we also know we've got the _best ruddy team in the school_," He said, punching a fist into his other hand with a familiar manic glint in his eye. "After all –"

There was a short, slightly dramatic pause before the boy pointed at Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Katie Bell.

"– we've got three superb Chasers," Oliver announced.

"Flattery will get you everywhere." The Irish, dark haired Alicia said dryly, smirking.

The blonde-haired tomboy Katie snorted while the hazel-eyed Angelina giggled.

The Captain continued as if Alicia hadn't spoken, "– two unbeatable Beaters –"

"Stop it, Oliver, you're embarrassing us," Fred and George fluttered their eyelashes, pretending to blush as they used their hands to fan themselves.

Harry relaxed a little, lips twitching up at their antics. It was almost impossible to be annoyed with those two for long.

"– and we've got a Seeker who has never failed to win us a match!" Oliver finished, triumphant, glaring at Harry with a kind of furious pride that the girl saw after every game.

The green-eyed girl shrugged a little, flushing with embarrassment despite how pleased she was at those words.

"…and then there's me." Oliver's shoulders dropped as he pointed to himself.

The look on his face was so pathetic that not even Fred and George found it in themselves to try and tease him about it.

"Don't be like that, Oliver." Alicia tried to comfort him. "You're the best Keeper in this school!"

The other girls in the team nodded vigorously.

"…really?" He mumbled.

"Yeah!" George gave him a thumbs up.

Fred patted his shoulder, "Come on, where's that motivational speech of yours? We'll need it if we want to win against Slytherin!"

That was all he needed. Oliver squared his shoulders, held his head high and puffed his chest up as he looked at them with a mad glint in his eyes that would have scared even Peeves.

"Okay, men –" Oliver started.

As if it was tradition by now, Angelina interrupted him with a twitch of her lips, "And women."

Oliver nodded, "And women." There was a short pause as he took a deep breath, "This is it –"

"– the big one –" Fred grinned.

George leaned against his brother, "– the one we've all been waiting for –"

"– the beginning of our journey toward victory!" Harry said with a giggle, playing along.

It was rather nostalgic. Oliver gave this same speech before the first game of the Year.

Katie joined them, "They may try to stop us –"

"– they may try to distract us –" Alicia said.

Angelina laughed, "But nothing will keep us from our goal."

"Such shiny goal." Fred and George cooed, lifting imaginary trophies and showing it off.

Harry laughed with everyone else in the room while Oliver glared at the team, trying to hide his smile.

"Now your two are just ruining my speech." The older boy pointed an accusatory finger at the two red-heads, "It doesn't go like that!"

"It sounds better now." Fred said.

George nodded with a crocked grin, "_So_ much better."

Oliver tried to speak but was interrupted by the bell signaling the beginning of the game. The team shared a look as he started breathing in and out repeatedly before making a motion for them to follow him.

"Good Lucky, Harry!" She waved at Neville as the boy ran from the locker rooms to the stands so he could find a seat for himself.

The thirteen years old girl hesitated, sending a look at the team. She didn't move until she felt a familiar invisible hand patting her head.

"Have a good game, doll." She beamed, looking up to see ice-blue eyes staring down at her warmly, "Show them what you can do."

The raven-haired witch grinned widely, nodding her head. Feeling like she had been bathed with _Liquid Luck_, Harry joined her team onto the field.

Part of her felt a little silly for having been so worried or nervous. There was no need for that, this wasn't her very first game. The raven-haired witch would play like she always did and she would help her team win, showing James what she could do while having fun.

She ignored the tumultuous applause and thundering cheers as the Slytherins walked into the field, dressed in their green gears and looking as unpleasant as always. Malfoy, she noticed, looked like he had swallowed something rather bitter and she grinned, wiggling her fingers when he threw her a glare that resembled more like a pout than anything.

If rumors were to be believed, and she was starting to think that they were, then the boy had missed a lot of Slytherin team's practices lately because of the amount of detentions that he had been getting from Hagrid in _Care of Magical Creatures_.

The twins had a betting pool going on of how long it would take before the prat dropped the subject since Lucius Malfoy wasn't going to lift a single finger against Hagrid. At least not after Harry had saved his precious baby boy from Buckpeak the Hippogriff. He would never risk her calling in the debt.

Not that she thought that such debt truly existed.

Madam Hooch, the Flying instructor, eyed both teams with suspicion, "I want a _fair _game."

Harry bit her tongue, wanting to point out that such thing would be impossible when the other team was _Slytherin_ but she kept her mouth shut.

"Players shake hands," With disgusted and disgruntled expression on their faces, they did so. Harry rolled her eyes after Malfoy let go of her hand to clean his own against his robes, "Good – Now, mount your brooms…"

Taking a deep breath, Harry mounted her Nimbus and ignored Malfoy as he sneered at her. Madam Hooch put her whistle to her lips and gave it a shrilling blast.

With that familiar sound, the game started.

Harry kicked off into the air, her broom shaking and swerving slightly against the wind. Thankfully, she was already used to flying in such conditions and knew exactly what to do to stay in control and not lost her inevitable battle against nature.

Calmly, she soared around the stadium, scanning every corner in searching of the Snitch while listening to the amusing commentary provided by Lee Jordan and a fondly exasperated Professor McGonagall.

"And the teams are off!" Lee announced, "The Gryffindors seem to be filled with determination as they fly beautifully around the stadium – Especially Angelina Johnson who looks more attractive than usua –"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

He didn't sound even a little repentant, especially after Angelina sent him a little wink.

Harry laughed before she was cut off by the sight of a Bludger coming her way like a cannonball. Gracefully, the small girl dodged it, giving the twins a wave as they chased it, shouting greetings as they did so.

Shaking her head, the thirteen years old girl started looking for the Snitch again.

"The beautiful and talented trio of Gryffindor Chasers Johnson, Spinnet and Bell are in a row! Ten goals out of twenty consecutive assaults!" The Gryffindors watching the game screamed and cheered so loud at Lee's words that Harry had to snap her fingers close to her ears to check if her hearing hadn't been affected, "Slytherin Keeper Bletchley seems to have a broken nose from blocking a Quaffle with it – I don't think that even Madam Pomfrey could do something about –"

"_Jordan_," Professor McGonagall cut him off. Harry could imagine the woman rubbing her eyes just by the tone of her voice.

The boy continued, "Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle. Flying like a eagle hunting its prey, he makes his way to the – _Ouch_, that must have hurt – Flint is hit by a Bludger; he looks a little dazzled there uh –"

Harry dodged the Bludger that had just hit Flint, watching as George knocked it toward Fred who then gave the Bludger a powerful whack in the direction of Adrian Pucey of Slytherin. Unfortunately, it was intercepted by a Slytherin whose name Harry didn't know. He must have been new to the team –

Her thoughts came to a halt as she noticed something shiny from the corner of her eyes.

In the background, Lee was booing, "– and Slytherin scores again. COME ON GRYFFINDOR DO SOMETHING! THINGS WERE GOING SO WELL!"

_When had the Slytherins scored? _Harry thought furiously as she avoided colliding with Graham Montague from Slytherin.

Emerald green eyes narrowed as she caught the snitch the Snitch hovering over the heads of a group of Ravenclaw students. Leaning forward, she accelerated and moved the right, immediately following the Snitch as it moved.

"Hey, Scarhead!" Malfoy shouted from somewhere.

She was so focused on the Snitch that she didn't notice it when the other Seeker appeared beside her. Truthful, she only blinked after Malfoy purposeful collided with her with enough force to knock her out of her broom.

Her eyes widened with horror as she tried to grab her broom but it was like her fingers had been frozen and she had lost all strength of her hands.

The whole crowd gasped as the raven-haired witch started falling in direction of the ground. Harry barely noticed it; her ears were ringing and the harsh wind hitting her, making her turn around as if she was some kind of ball made it difficult to think much less pay attention to anything that was happening around her.

Just as she thought that she was going to hit the hard ground, ending up as a pancake as she did so, she felt her body start to slow down enough for someone to grab her ankles just before she could hit the ground.

"Alright there, Harry?"

The small girl turned her head to see that it was the twins that had saved her; Fred holding her right ankle while George held her left. The boys looked out of breath but relieved as they stared at her.

"I…" Harry licked her lips, noticing that the ground was only three or so centimeters away from the point of her nose. "I think so…"

"FOUL! FOUL! SOMEONE DO SOMETHING ABOUT THAT LITTLE BASTARD!" Lee was shouting at the top of his lungs, almost successfully muffling Oliver's threats. For once, Professor McGonagall let Lee be, looking just as angry as him.

It was pure chaos. The Slytherins were cheering while Gryffindors were booing and shouting, roaring for Malfoy to be taken out of the game and for Madam Hooch to disqualify the Slytherins. Unfortunately, knocking someone out of their broom _wasn't _against the rules.

Harry was going to ask for the twins to move her before the blood going to her head killed her when she found herself staring at a very familiar walnut-sized golden little sphere with silver wings flying just a inch from her nose.

She didn't even stop to process what was happening before reaching out to grab it.

Madam Hooch's whistle echoed through the stadium. There was a long moment of silence until Harry showed off the Snitch struggling in her hand.

"I caught it!" She grinned, partly elated and partly bemused.

It took one, two, _three_ seconds before everyone understood what she had just said.

"Ouch," Harry winced as the twins let her go, rubbing her face after it hit the ground. The moment she sat down six scarlet blurs moved down on her; tackling her and hugging her. She could barely breath but Harry endured it, laughing with her teammates as the crowd cheered, jumping up and down and throwing golden and scarlet sparks from their wands, like mini-fireworks.

"GRYFFINDOR WINS!" Lee was hugging McGonagall who was discretely wiping her eyes with a handkerchief, "TAKE THAT SLTHERIN! 210 – 140 AND GRYFFINDOR WINS THE FIRST GAME OF THE YEAR! HAHAHA!"

"She almost died but she did it," The twins sniffed theatrically.

"I have never been happier to see your odd luck in action, Harry." Alicia admitted as see and the other girls pulled her away from the twins to hug her more.

"That must have been the easiest catch in all Hogwarts' history!" Katie grinned.

"That's my girl," Oliver was crying, "I taught her everything she knows."

The whole team rolled their eyes. It was only the first game of the Year; if he was crying now then what he was going to do if they lost a match? Try to drown himself in the showers?

Harry scanned the crowd as a gaggle of Gryffindors ran in their direction. She couldn't see Neville anywh – She froze, staring at two familiar figures with wide eyes.

Standing beside her _visible_ Great-Uncle, and hidden from view by the shadows of the raised stands, was _Neville_.

_Wha – How – _The small raven-haired witch couldn't even bring herself to try and come up with an explanation to what she was seeing. Instead, she focused on the fact that both of them were looking in the same direction with, surprisingly, the same look filled with anger. James' eyes, however, promised a lot more _pain_.

Following their line of sight, she noticed a grumbling Malfoy, his pointed face red as he ranted to a annoyed Flint.

Slowly, a smile appeared on James' face.

She didn't need to know what he was thinking to say that that smile didn't mean anything good.

Malfoy better start running.

* * *

The twins were fascinated, sharing a large bowl of popcorn as they watched James and Neville stare at one another unblinkingly. Harry sat beside them, trying to not panic.

How they had even gotten to this point?!

Her long haired Great-Uncle looked at her. She hadn't even noticed that she had spoken out loud before he replied her question.

"After the ferret –"

"Draco Malfoy," The three wizards in the room supplied helpfully.

James nodded, jaw set and eyes promising nothing but pain, "After the Malfoy punk pushed you off your broom," Ice-blue eyes darkened at the memory, "I immediately ran to help."

"So did I." Neville said, glancing at her Great-Uncle. "He accidentally took off the Invisibility Cloak on the way down from the stands so I saw him."

Harry's head snapped in James' direction. Knowing what she was thinking, he shook his head, lips twitching up slightly.

"No one else saw me." He reassured her, "Don't worry about it, doll."

The small witch sighed, relaxing a little.

She nipped her bottom lip, turning to look at Neville who regarded her thoughtfully. Now that she thought about it, he had been giving her that same look for a while now.

"Sorry," The raven-haired witch flushed, ashamed. "I should have told you about him before, I just…"

She should have told him about James after the twins learned about the man but she kept getting distracted and ended constantly pushing the issue to the back of her mind.

Also, as ashamed as she was to admit it, there was a rather selfish part of her which just didn't want to share her only family with anyone else.

Neville smiled, as he knew exactly what she thinking.

"It's ok, Harry." He assured her, "I understand." The chubby boy grinned with a shrug, "At least I know now."

The small girl smiled gently, feeling warm and happy at how kind her friend was. Perking up, she decided to tell him everything that he should have been told early that year.

The blonde haired wizard listened with attention before turning to look at James with an odd look on his face. Her Great-Uncle's smiled charmingly, amused.

"I'm keeping an eye on you." Neville stated, jaw setting.

Harry blinked, not understanding why he would say such thing.

"I knew I liked you for a reason, punk." James didn't seem even a little bothered by the look he got after his declaration.

Looking from her Great-Uncle to her best friend, Harry felt a little lost. She was missing something.

"They seem to have reached an accord, Fred." George said.

The other red-head nodded, "Indeed, George."

A little annoyed and knowing that none of the boys would explain what was going on, Harry decided to change the subject.

"Say," The four other occupants of the room looked at her. Harry cleared her throat, flushing a little, "Who stopped me from falling?"

"It was Dumbledore," Fred said. "As you fell, he waved his wand, and you sort of slowed down."

George made a gesture with his hand, "We caught you after that."

"I don't know if you noticed but he was furious with Malfoy," Neville told her. Harry nodded. Before they had left the stadium, she had seen Dumbledore scolding the Slytherin, looking at the boy with disappointed blue eyes.

James leaned against his seat, eyes cold as he stared at the blank blackboard on the other side of the room. He didn't say anything and merely listened. Harry knew her Great-Uncle well enough to know that he was far to angry to comment about what happened.

"We thought Malfoy was going to be expelled," Fred muttered.

George looked heartbroken, "We hoped he would be."

"Wait," Harry waved her hands, confused. "Why would he be expelled?"

"It's a unspoken here at school," Fred explained, "You can push the other player away but you _can't_ knock them out of their broom."

"Uh," The witch blinked. She didn't know that. "_Will_ he be expelled?"

The twins snorted, giving her a look filled with disbelief. Harry mumbled to herself, knowing what they were thinking.

Malfoy would only be expelled if he ended up killing someone. Otherwise, his father would do everything to keep the bleached boy in Hogwarts.

"He was banned from Hogsmeade." Neville said, "I heard Professor Dumbledore telling him. He also got detention until the end of the year because he didn't want to apologize to you, Harry."

She hummed. The green-eyed witch was pretty sure that Malfoy didn't even know what _apologizing _meant.

Harry opened her mouth to speak before making a pause.

"Hey, did one of you get my Nimbus?" She asked, only now noticing that she hadn't gotten her broom back, not even after everyone had left the field and she and the other four headed to one of the several empty classrooms in the castle so they could talk.

Neville gave her a nervous look while Fred and George hesitated.

She scowled, "What?"

"Er –" Neville opened and closed his mouth.

"You see, Harrykins," Dread filled at the tone of Fred's voice, "When you fell off your broom, it got blown away by the wind."

"_And…?_" Harry was almost afraid of learning about the fate of her precious broom.

George bit his lips, "Alicia saw the direction that it had gone and – Er – It ended hitting the Whomping Willow."

Harry's shoulders dropped. That meant that her broom was destroyed beyond repair.

The Whomping Willow was a very violent tree that stood alone in the middle of the grounds and it didn't like anyone or anything invading its territory or touching it. When that happened, the Whomping Willow destroyed or killed it immediately.

"Sorry, Harry." Neville winced.

She shook her head with a sigh, "It isn't your fault."

A gloved hand reached out to pat her head, making her look up. James smiled at her.

"We can get you a new one for Christmas."

That brought a smile to her face. Harry beamed as she recalled that Christmas was just around the corner and that, for the first time in her life, she would be able to celebrate it with _family_.

"You should get a Firebolt." Fred exclaimed, dreamily.

George nodded, "You would be unbeatable with it! According to _Which Broomstick_, the Firebolt's going to be the broom of choice for the national teams at this year's World Championship –"

At the same time, Fred was speaking, "The Firebolt has an acceleration of 150 miles an hour in ten seconds and has a built-in auto-brake –"

Neville was a little lost as they spoke, not knowing a lot about brooms, but he seemed to be trying to listen, making a comment here and there. James listened as well, asking about how safe the broom was, while Harry watched her four boys with a grin.

Despite falling off her Nimbus and losing it to the Whomping Willow, it had been a good day.

* * *

Since the Dementors left the castle a little before the article about Pettigrew and Black was published, Harry found that she could finally enjoy walking outside of the castle and play in the snow with her friends and James without fear of being affected by the creatures.

Aside from homework and watching asRavenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their Quidditch match at the end of November, nothing exciting happened. Well, Lupin had gotten sick and they had to endure Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape but that was far from what she would call exciting.

By the second week of December, the students were all happily discussing their plans for the holidays. And, like always, Professor McGonagall was standing in the common room, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays. She was surrounded by older years, having already taken the names of First, Second and Third Years early that morning.

For once, Harry wasn't the first student to sign the list. Something that the Transfiguration teacher definitely noticed.

"Miss Potter!"

Harry looked away from the game of cards that she had been playing with the twins, surprised. Professor McGonagall was staring at her over the heads of the crowd surrounding her. The stern looking witch made a motion with her head, sharp eyes narrowing slightly from behind square spectacles.

"What did you do?" Neville asked, scared for her. He leaned on his seat, placing his Herbology book aside to look at McGonagall.

"I have no idea," The green-eyed girl replied, standing up with a confused look on her face.

Ignoring the whispers that followed her from the other students in the common room, Harry tried to remember if she had done something wrong. Why else would Professor McGonagall want to talk to her?

Professor McGonagall ushered Harry away from the over curious crowd and they made their way outside, walking slowly in direction of the older witch's office.

Once inside the office, Professor McGonagall motioned to sit down as she settled herself behind her desk. Nervously, Harry watched as she opened one of the drawers of her desk and pulled out a familiar looking file.

At first, the older black haired witch didn't say anything, going through the file as if Harry wasn't in the room. By that point, the only reason the small girl hadn't been going through a panic attack was the comforting presence of her invisible Great-Uncle behind her. She really didn't like it when the teachers took their time before informing her if she was or not in trouble.

"Do you see something different, Miss Potter?" Professor McGonagall asked, breaking the silence as she held out the file to Harry. "I was rather confused when I saw the change this morning."

The small girl took it a little bit of hesitation, scanning the contents inside the folder until she understood what was the problem.

**Student Name: **_Charis Aster Potter_

**Current Address: **_Rosewood's Mews – _

She didn't even finish reading. Instead, Harry raised her head to find Professor McGonagall looking at her from over her spectacles. The woman didn't say anything, waiting for an explanation.

"I… moved away?" Harry smiled nervously, feeling James grip her shoulder gently.

Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow, as if to say _really? I didn't notice!_

Sighing, the small thirteen years old mused about what she should say, afraid that the Transfiguration teacher would go running to Dumbledore. She was sure that the old man would then try to take her back to the Dursleys – Not that he would succeed.

Professor McGonagall pursued her lips, "Miss Potter, as your Head of House, I need to be informed about things like that. Just like how I need to be informed of your guardianship is changed."

Emerald green-eyes blinked slowly.

What?

"What?" She said, stunned.

The woman gave her a _look_ that was usually reserved for Ron when he was being deliberately slow.

"Last page."

Following the clear order, Harry turned her attention back to the folder, turning the pages quickly. There it was, at the bottom of the last page, written beside both _Magical Guardian _and _Muggle Guardian_, was _James'_ name.

"Oh," She blinked once more.

A large, blinding smile appeared on her face. Her eyes burned but she didn't cry.

Harry had known that James was her Non-Magical Guardian; all those trips to Gringotts over the Summer hadn't been for nothing after all. But she hadn't even stopped to imagine that he was her _Magical _Guardian as well, not wanting to dream in vain.

James being her Magical Guardian meant that Headmaster Dumbledore would never again have a say on where she should or shouldn't stay over the summer ever again. Nor would she need to keep fearing that the old man would one day take her away from James.

Taking a deep breath to calm herself, she smiled at her teacher, "I'm living with my Maternal Great-Uncle now. He is a Squib."

Professor McGonagall nodded, thoughtfully. The woman didn't ask for clarification nor why Harry moved in with her maternal Great-Uncle. There was no need for her to know that.

"You're happy with him?" The stern teacher asked, eyes softening as the raven-haired girl gave her a loving smile in response. "I see… That's good. Well, in that case," Professor McGonagall said, standing up and taking the file back from Harry, placing it neatly into its drawer. "You may go, Miss Potter."

Harry nodded, thanking the woman and standing up to leave. Just before she could reach the door, however, the Transfiguration teacher stopped her.

"Miss Potter, have you heard about Sirius Black's trial?"

Taken aback by the abruptly question, Harry nodded her head. She had heard about it. Ever since the day of the trial was officially released, the students had Hogwarts could only talk about it.

The older witch stared at her student for a moment or two, then said, "Would you and your Guardian like me to take you to the trial? I presume that neither of you know where to go."

Here, the small girl wished she could look at James and ask him what he wanted to do. As much as she wanted to see her godfather's trial, mostly to give the man some kind of moral support, she also didn't want to make any kind of big decision without her Great-Uncle's opinion on the matter.

The hand still gripping her shoulder moved, fingers tapping in a familiar sequence that she immediately translated as _Go on_.

Harry beamed, "We would like that."

* * *

Before Harry knew it, the term was officially over and it was time for the holidays.

While James decided to read a book about the Magical Community in America and the twins decided to find their friend Lee, Harry and Neville greatly enjoyed the train ride back to London; talking and laughing as the countryside became greener and tidier, playing games as they sped past Muggle towns and making plans to see each other over the holidays as the Hogwarts Express stopped at the King's Cross station.

James stayed under her Invisibility Cloak until she said goodbye to Neville and stepped through the barrier of the platform nine and three-quarters.

"Ready to go home, doll?" James asked as they walked out of the station, taking her trunk from her hands.

Harry hugged Hedwig's cage against her chest as she grinned, "Definitely!"

Rosewood's Mews, the duo would later find, looked beautiful and ready for the holidays. All houses were covered with snow. There were holly wreaths on the doors and all tree had were covered by charmed lights, which after some inspection Harry learned were actually _real _fairies, and charmed ornaments that sparkled or moved. The whole place looked like it had been taken out of one of those fantastical Christmas movies that Aunt Petunia watched sometimes when she thought there was no one home.

The few days until Christmas, James and Harry decided to decorate their own house. Honestly, maybe they exaggerated a little in the end, but they loved it.

Harry had taken advantage of the fact that she could use magic inside the house and filled the corridors and doorways with thick streamers of holly and mistletoe and charmed snow on every corner that she could find. James tied strings of multicolored lights all over the house, attracting fairies from outside, and hang two socks (One black and the other light-pink) by the fireplace much to Harry's confusion.

Their Christmas tree, a beautiful pine tree James had hand picked from the shop down the street, glittered with enchanted candles and small golden stars. They had a lot of fun deciding how they would be decorating the tree.

On the morning of Christmas Eve, James introduced Harry to the Barnes tradition of baking.

From scratch, they made a rather funny gingerbread house and baked enough cookies to feed the whole neighborhood. The house had looked a little odd and the cookies ended up a little burnt on the edges but Harry hadn't cared about anything of that. She was happy to be part of some kind of Christmas tradition and to be able to share the experience with _family_.

A little after two in the afternoon, the duo made their way outside, stopping by the doorway as they were greeted by a Rosewood's Mills filled with old Christmas songs, people of all ages and nationality and laugher from all sides. There was a festival going on.

"Where to first?" James asked, staring at stall selling a big variety of soup.

Scanning the street quickly, Harry hummed in thought, tapping her bottom lip. With a childish grin, the small witch pointed in direction of a group of dwarves who were selling funny hats of all shapes and color.

"We definitely need to get one for Hedwig!" Harry said, her eyes glowing with happiness as she took hold of the long-haired man hand and pulled her toward the group.

James smiled, not even complaining when, minutes later, Harry brought three matching hats and placed one of them over his head.

Between glancing over his shoulders with suspicion from time to time, the ice-blue eyed was rather relaxed; his eyes were lighter and his posture less tense. It was actually the first time in public that he didn't seem to be itching to grab one of his weapons.

It was nice to see James enjoying himself for once instead of worrying all the time about possible enemies hidden in the shadows.

After playing a few games and trying some of the exotic foods available, James pulled Harry to the fountain where a band was playing classic Muggle songs.

"Wait, are we going to dance? I can't dance!"

James gave her a charming grin, "I can teach you, doll. I'll have you know that I'm the best dance partner you could ever have."

"Well, it's your feet's funeral," The thirteen years old muttered, smiling shyly as she let him guide her on the right steps. "Not mine."

Her Great-Uncle laugh.

* * *

"Presents!" Harry squealed, running to the tree.

James walked into the room from the kitchen, smiling at her.

"Don't you want to eat first?" The ice-blue eyed man asked, making a motion to the kitchen.

"Food is overrated." She informed him, with all the seriousness that a thirteen years old girl could manage "Presents are better."

James snorted.

Under their Christmas tree, Harry found her present to James, which she immediately handed over to her Great-Uncle. It had taken a while for her to come up with the perfect present and it wasn't until she saw a familiar leather book given to her by Hagrid back in her First Year that the witch had come to a decision.

The dark haired man stared, as if mesmerized by the sight of the package warped in black paper in her hands before taking it with shaky hands.

Harry smiled kindly.

Slowly, he ripped the paper to reveal an handmade photo book. It had taken her some time to make it but, in the end, Harry was rather of the collage she had placed on the covers of the book.

The ice-blue eyed man hesitated, as if afraid to damage her gift by merely touching it, but he still opened the book.

James took a shuddering breath, staring at the face of his sister who was grinning widely as she waved at him.

"I thought that since I couldn't give you all of your memories back – I mean, you're already recovering them on your own," She babbled, flushing a little under his intense look, "I – So, I thought you would appreciate those."

She made a nervous motion with her toward the photo-album, taking a deep breath. Her heart was beating so fast that she could barely breath.

Harry hoped he liked her present.

"I sent a letter to the Goblins asking for any picture belonging to my mom that they could find in her personal vault," Harry said, watching as James turned the page to see a picture of Rebecca playing with a two-years old Lily Potter. "They sent me enough to make the album. There're pictures from Grandma's childhood until her adulthood and pictures from mom's childhood until a little before she was, well… Anyway, I thought you would like them. And maybe we can even add more photos to the album later." She barely stopped to breath before blurting out, "We can make our own family album!"

Closing her mouth with an audible _click_, Harry shrugged trying to not show just how embarrassed she was.

Maybe she should have kept her mouth shut. _Merlin_, she must have sounded so stupid…

"You were right," He said.

Looking up, she found him touching a picture of her grandmother and her mother with care, as if afraid of damaging it. If his eyes looked a little wet and if his voice seemed to portray a hint of vulnerability, Harry didn't show that she noticed it.

"Presents are better…" He whispered, "So much better…"

The green-eyed girl relaxed as he looked at her with a loving smile. Slowly, she smiled back. He didn't thank her nor did she expect him to. She understood the message behind his smile.

There was a moment of comfortable silence. Suddenly, her Great-Uncle spoke, confused.

"How are _all_ of them moving?" James asked, staring at a picture of a younger him holding a baby Rebecca.

It was a good question; half of those pictures hadn't been taken by an Wizarding Camera.

"I asked one of the Gryffindors for the Potion to make the Non-Magical pictures move." She replied, turning her head slightly so he won't see the expression on her face.

Colin Creevey, a Second Year Gryffindor and her biggest – stalker – fan, had been more than happy to hand the potion over in exchange of being allowed to taking some pictures of her.

Honestly, she didn't even want to know what he was going to do with those picture Surely those rumors about his _Harry Potter cult _had been nothing but lies?

…_Right?_

"Charis?" She blinked, glancing at James to find him starting with an amused look on his face. "Aren't you going to open your presents?"

Harry gasped.

She couldn't believe that she forgot her presents!

Before she could even touching one of the presents under the tree though, there was a familiar _pop! _She blinked and, the next second, something with very large, round and familiar green eyes staring back at her, so close they were almost nose to nose.

There was the familiar click of a gun as she screamed, scrambling away so fast that she almost threw herself at the floor.

"_Dobby!_" Harry took a deep breath, blinking at the House-Elf as she recognized him. Placing a hand over her racing heart, she tried to calm herself, "Dobby, don't do that!"

The small elf looked like he wanted to cry, long fingers pulling his ears hard enough to leave a bruise. Thankful, he didn't start hitting himself as he would have done last year.

"Dobby is sorry!" He squeaked, hopping a little, "Dobby didn't want to fright the Great Lady Charis and her Scary Jamie!"

_Mine what? _The thirteen years old thought with amused disbelief, lips pulling into a grin.

Behind her, James put his faithful gun away, grumbling that _the elf was lucky that he couldn't kill it_. Harry ignored him, smiling the House-Elf.

"What – Er – What do you want Dobby?" Harry asked, only now noticing that he was wearing a rather familiar scarf. She had made it for him, "Oh, you got your present."

Dobby nodded so fast that had he been human, his neck would have snapped.

"Dobby came to wish the Great Lady Charis 'Merry Christmas' and to thank the Great Lady Charis for her kindness!" He looked utterly happy for a moment before his face twisted with worry, "Uh, Dobby also brought her a present!"

"Did you?" She asked, surprised.

Although she had gotten him the scarf, mostly because she wanted to do something nice to the House-Elf, Harry hadn't expected him to give her anything.

"Dobby is making them himself!" The elf said happily, snapping his fingers and making a package appear, "He is buying the wool out of his wages!"

Dobby had wages now? Harry asked herself as she opened the package to find one bright red glove with runes pattern upon it and one green glove with golden Snitches pattern.

The mismatched winter gloves were no work of art but it was the thought behind them that counted.

"Thank you, Dobby. I'll cherish it." Harry smiled kindly, pulling the gloves on.

"The Great Lady Charis is so kind!" Dobby squeaked once more, his eyes brimming with tears.

Then, he turned to look at James. The ice-blue eyed veteran gained a look of trepidation.

"Dobby also got a present for the Great Lady Charis' Scary Jamie."

The raven-haired girl fought to keep her face straight, her shoulders shaking and eyes lighting up with mirth.

"Really?" James asked dryly.

Dobby nodded, snapping his fingers and making another package appear. Hopping, him handed the package to James.

The man eyed the present as if it was a bomb, at least until he noticed the look Harry was giving him over her shoulder. With a sigh, James tore the paper in one go.

"It's…" Poor James, he looked lost as he stared at the mismatched socks Dobby had made to him; one blue with snowflakes pattern and the other black with white wolves patterns.

"Very nice, Dobby!" Harry decided to help a little, grinning. "Uncle James will wear them now. Won't you, Uncle James?"

Her Great-Uncle her a _look_ but did so, pulling his grey socks off so he could wear the ones the overexcited elf had made for him. Finished, he leaned back in his seat, eyebrows twitching at random intervals.

Harry snickered.

"Dobby must go now," Dobby said, not even giving Harry the chance to say goodbye. With another _pop!_, he disappeared.

Shaking her head, the thirteen years old turned her attention back to her pile of presents. Without thinking, she placed the package with James' name to the side, wishing to keep the best present for last.

Her presents were very nice.

The twins had given her a gift card from _Quality Quidditch Supplies_, one of her favorite shops in Diagon Alley. Hagrid sent her a vast box of sweets while Mrs. Weasley sent the usual package with a scarlet hand-knitted sweater and a large chocolate and strawberry cake. The green-eyed girl read the older witch's card with a fresh surge of guilt, thinking about how she had ignored her last year at the station.

_This year_, she thought with conviction, _I'll talk to her_.

Neville, Harry found as she opened the small box he gave her, had sent five charms for her bracelet; a star, a small rune book, a miniature Marauder Map, the number seven and a little trophy. She grinned, immediately attaching to her bracelet and showing it off to James, twirling her hand as she did so.

"Very pretty," He smiled. "The kid does know how to pick up his gifts."

Harry nodded, hoping that Neville liked the seeds and the hand-made flowerpots she had sent to him.

Just as she turned to open James' present, Hedwig swooped into the room, wearing the little reindeer hat Harry had brought to her the previous night and carrying a letter on her beak.

"Happy Christmas, Hedwig," Harry said happily as the snow owl landed on the arm of the sofa.

Hedwig nibbled her fingers gently in an affectionate sort of way after Harry took the letter from her. The small witch smiled at her feathery friend, rubbing her chest lovingly.

Checking the letter, she immediately recognized the envelope.

"It's from Hogwarts." She said, confused.

Why would the school send her anything?

"Maybe is from your teacher," James suggested, reaching out for the mug of coffee on the table next to his chair.

It took her a second to understand which teacher he was talking about. Wide eyed, Harry opened the envelope and unfolding the letter inside it.

_Dear Miss Potter,_

_First off, Merry Christmas. I hope you're enjoying your morning. _

_Hagrid would like me to send you his love and Professor Dumbledore, under the assumption that you're still living with your Aunt (An assumption which I shall not correct until asked about it) wishes to congratulate you for finding it in yourself the strength to forgive your relatives for their past grievances._

Harry stared with disbelief. Professor Dunbledore was either as mad as people thought he was or he was one of the most naïve wizards she had ever meet.

Reading the paragraph one more time, the girl grinned. It looked like Professor McGonagall wasn't going to tell the Headmaster about James. She wondered why; maybe the old wizard had done to irritate the Transfiguration teacher and this was her revenge?

With a shrug, Harry continued reading.

_Now, to the reason why I'm writing this letter:_

_I would like to inform you that the trial for Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew will take place on the 27th of December at 07:00 AM in the Courtroom 10 at the Ministry of Magic. I'll be waiting for you and your guardian, Mr. Barnes, in front of C.D. McLeod's Bargain Store and Curiosity Shop._

_Thank you,_

_Minerva McGonagall._

_I wonder if I will be able to give Sirius his Christmas present? _Harry mused to herself, handing the letter over to James.

She hoped it would be possible. His freedom would definitely be the best present he could ever get but she wanted to give him something which he would look at and remember that he wasn't alone, that Harry would be there for him.

Harry shook her head. She would think about it later.

Curiously, she sent a glance at James' present, only now noticing that that the package was long and thin and, dare she say, the shape reminded her of – Harry cut her thoughts off.

Her Great-Uncle couldn't have possibly…

Gulping, Harry ripped the paper apart and gasped as a magnificent, gleaming broomstick rolled out onto the floor.

"You didn't…" She whispered in a hushed tone. "That – It –"

It was a Firebolt. The same dream broom the twins had described in great detail. There was no mistaking the golden registration number at the top of the handle and the perfectly smooth, streamlined birch twigs that made up the tail.

"_Uncle James,_" She hissed, torn between giddiness and horror. "It must have cost you a _small fortune_."

The twins had been rather vocal about the price. How much was it again? – Something around _2500G_?!

"It was nothing," James shrugged, eyes glowing with amusement at the expression on her face.

She gaped.

Nothing?

_Nothing?! _It as probably enough to empty her Trust Vault! She wasn't worth all that mo –

A large hand landed on her head, making her jump. Looking into warm ice-blue eyes, Harry lost her train of thought, forgetting what she was so mad about.

"I don't really care about the money, doll." James said. "Just enjoy your present."

The thirteen years old sighed, not wanting to argue with him. Looking down at her new broom, she smiled, excitement filling her whole being as an idea struck her.

"I can't wait to teach you how to fly!" She grinned mischievously.

"I kno – _What?_"

Harry laughed as her Great-Uncle tried to tell her why he learning how to fly would be a terrible idea. In response, she hugged her new broom against her chest and shook her head like a petulant child.

"But Uncle James! It would be like a bonding exercise – Normal families do that!" Harry pouted, eyes wide and lips trembling.

"Normal families don't fly on _brooms_ – Doll, don't look at me like that!"

This, the small witch thought as they bickered, had been the best Christmas day she had ever had.

* * *

On the day of her godfather trial, Harry awoke at half-past six. It was a little late for her, but she didn't stop to think about it and leapt out of bed, putting her glasses.

James, who must have decided to check on her early in the morning to see why she hadn't prepared their breakfast like she always did, had kindly laid out a black dress, black thighs and one of her Gryffindor jerseys at the foot of her bed. That would save her the trouble of trying to decide what to wear.

Harry dressed herself quickly, making her way to the bathroom. After tying her hair in bun and brushing her teeth, she walked into her closet in search of a good pair of boots.

Finding the boots, Harry crossed the room, stepping out onto the corridor and walking quietly down the stairs.

James was waiting for her in kitchen, placed three pancakes on her plate. She shot a amused look at his own plate, which had a rather tall pile of pancakes bathed with syrup, but didn't say anything about it.

"Good Morning, doll." The ice-blue eyed man smiled, handing her plate over.

"M-Morning, Uncle James," Harry yawned rubbing her eyes a little. She glanced around the kitchen, "Where's Hedwig?"

"She left ten minutes ago," James replied, reaching out for his mug of coffee. "I think she wanted to fly a little."

Her nose wrinkled at the sight. Uncle Vernon's and Aunt Petunia's love for coffee had destroyed any chance of her ever liking the drink.

Standing up from her seat, she decided to prepare a cup of tea for herself.

"Hedwig does that sometimes," Harry said, tiptoeing in a attempt of reaching the tea pot. It took her some time but, the end, she was successful.

The small thirteen years old never had to worry when her snow owl decided to leave the house. Hedwig was smart enough to take care of herself; she would be back later.

After her tea was ready, Harry sat by James' side and the two started eating; the ice-blue eyed man in silence while she spoke out loud about her expectations of what the Ministry would look like.

Finished with breakfast, Harry ran to her room to grab her godfather's present and the duo left their house, walking in direction of _C.D. McLeod's Bargain Store and Curiosity Shop_, a mixed Magical and Non-Magical shop two streets away from Rosewood's Mews. There, they found Professor McGonagall waiting by the door of the shop.

Harry did a double take, surprised to the Cat Animagus wearing something other than robes for once.

"Miss Potter." The girl greeted her teacher as McGonagall nodded, eyes moving to James. "And you must be Mr. Barnes."

Smiling charmingly as he had done with Mrs. Longbottom, James took Professor McGonagall's hand, kissing it as he bowed. Emerald green-eyes blinked, stunned beyond belief as a light blush covered the other witch's cheeks before she hide it.

Had James just made the stern and always composed Professor McGonagall _blush_?

_Wow_, Harry blinked once more, looking up to check if pigs had finally learned how to fly, _Nope, there's nothing. _

"Pleasure to meet you, ma'am." Her Great-Uncle said, never losing his smile.

Harry observed them with something akin to fascination as Professor McGonagall cleared her throat. It was rather difficult to say if the black haired witch was charmed or annoyed by James. If she had to guess, the small thirteen years old would say that it was the first option.

"I'm pleased to meet you as well, Mr. Barnes." She said as he let her hand go. There was a pause as McGonagall stared at him, "You look more like Lily than Petunia ever did."

James smiled, standing tall as he tilted his head. It wasn't a nice kind of smile, more a annoyed one. Not that Harry thought it was possible for her teacher to know the difference.

"Not surprising as Lily was my sister's daughter and Petunia wasn't." He said.

McGonagall seemed to think about it before nodding her head, satisfied in knowing how exactly he was related to Harry and her mother.

"Well, we go." With that Harry and James followed Professor McGonagall as she started walking.

"Ma'am?" Harry asked from beside James, "How're we going to get to the Ministry?"

"I thought of using the Knight Bus," The stern witch gazed at Harry with an knowing look, "But then I decided that using Muggle means would be better."

Harry relaxed, sighing. She really didn't want to use the Knight Bus.

In silence, they made their way to the Underground station. Harry was rather relieved to know that Professor McGonagall knew how the automatic ticket machines worked or how to blend in a crowd of non-magicals. It was nothing like the rather embarrassing experience she had gone through with Hagrid after he delivered her letter.

Before she knew it, they got off the train at a station onto a broad street lined with imposing-looking buildings in the very heart of London. James brought her close to him, tensing slightly as Professor McGonagall led them down the street.

James clenched his jaw as they walked farther and farther into a street that contained several rather shabby-looking offices, a pub, and an overflowing dumpster. His eyes scanned the whole place, narrowing slightly as he looked for any kind of threat.

Harry couldn't blame him for his suspicion and paranoia. This place wasn't what she had in mind for the location of the Ministry of Magic.

Professor McGonagall stopped before an old red version of the Doctor's TARDIS which had seen better days; the paint was fading and several panes of glass were missing if not broken.

The woman made a motion for them to step into the telephone booth but James made another for her to go first. Harry shot her teacher a nervous look relieved to see that McGonagall merely pursued her lips at the refusal and opened the door, stepping inside. Only then did James decide that it was safe for them to follow.

The door closed and Harry had to latch against her Great-Uncle's side; it was a tight fit and had one of them been a little bit over weight, they wouldn't have fitted inside the telephone booth.

Professor McGonagall reached for the receiver and looking down at the dial. Harry gaped while James' eyebrows flew up when the duo saw exactly what was being dialed; six, two, four, four and two.

That sequence of numbers could be seen as, quite literally, _magic_.

Harry placed a hand over her mouth to muffle her snicker.

Professor McGonagall gave her a side glance but didn't say anything about it, turning her attention back to the dial as it whirred smoothly back into place.

Suddenly, a cool female voice echoed inside the telephone box, not from the receiver Professor McGonagall was holding but as though an invisible woman was standing right beside them.

James' muscles tensed and his left hand flexed close to one his hidden guns as he pulled her closer.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business."

"Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress, here to escort Miss Charis Potter and her guardian, Sargent James Barnes, to the trial of Sirius Black."

"Thank you," The cool female voice replied. "Visitor, please take the badge and attach it to the front of your robes."

There was a click and a rattle, and Harry saw something slide out of the metal chute where returned coins usually appeared. James picked it up to reveal three square silver badges. One with _Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Deputy Headmistress_ on it while the other two also had Harry's and James' on it along the words _Trial Onlookers_.

Harry snorted, grabbing her badge and pinning it on the front of Gryffindor jersey.

A moment later, the female voice spoke again.

"Visitor to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wand for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium."

The floor of the telephone box shuddered. Harry's arms tightened around James as they were sinking into the ground slowly and she watched as the pavement rose up past the glass windows of the telephone box until darkness closed over their heads.

One never knew what to expect when it came to magical travel. They may have been going slowly for now but they could very well start going faster at any moment.

After a minute or so, though it felt much longer to Harry, a chink of golden light illuminated her feet and, widening, rose up her body, until it hit her in the face and she had to blink to stop her eyes from watering. The woman then spoke once more;

"The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant day."

The door of the telephone box sprang open and Professor McGonagall stepped out of it, followed by James and Harry, whose emerald green eyes widened.

The three of them were standing at one end of a very long and splendid hall with a highly polished, dark floor (If she wasn't wrong, it was made from Macassar Ebony wood). The ceiling was blue with gleaming golden Runes that were continually moving and changing like an enormous notice board.

The walls on each side of the hall had many gilded fireplaces set into them and every few seconds a witch or wizard would emerge from one of the left-hand fireplaces with a soft _whoosh_. There were even queues of wizards were forming before each fireplace as they waited for their turn to use the Fireplace to depart.

Halfway down the hall was a fountain. It was the same size as the found in the Rosewood's Mews but it was neither as impressive as the one close to hers and James' home nor was it as beautiful. Actually, Harry found the statues on the fountain rather insulting – To it say disgusting.

The golden statues, larger than life-size, of a noble-looking wizard with his wand pointing straight up in the air and a beautiful witch, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf made her pursue her lips. The last four were all looking adoringly up at the wizard. The whole thing was just one more way for certain magicals to represent how "superior" their race was compared to the non-humans.

Irritated, Harry looked away from the statues and continued following Professor McGonagall toward a set of golden gates at the far end of the hall.

They joined the crowd, wending their way between the Ministry workers and visitors. All of them seemed to be in hurrying and from what she overheard of the conversations around her, most of them were heading to the trial of the notorious criminal, Sirius Black.

They stopped walking when they reached a desk on the far left, over which hung a sign saying _SECURITY / INSPECTION_. A badly shaven wizard in peacock-blue robes was staring at the latest edition of the _Daily Prophet _in his hands with an bored expression before he looked up, flinching when he saw Professor McGonagall.

Quickly, he stood up from his chair, almost kicking it down as he did so. The man sputtered, trying – _and failing miserably _– to look presentable.

"P-professor!"

The Transfiguration teacher narrowed her eyes, like a cat watching her prey. That just made the man look like he was torn from breaking down crying while confessing all his sins or running away as far as he could.

"Mr. Keller," Professor McGonagall said slowly, "I see that all those detentions hadn't taught you anything about taking your responsibilities seriously." He opened his mouth to maybe try and defend himself but she continued. "It doesn't matter. We're here for Black's trial."

"We…?" He repeated dumbly.

The man, it seemed, hadn't noticed James and Harry standing a step away from Professor McGonagall. Leaning to the side a little, he blinked one, two, three times before his mouth fell open.

Harry grimaced, stepping behind her Great-Uncle and holding onto his leather jacket.

_There we go… _She thought darkly.

"You're Har –"

"Mr. Keller," Professor McGonagall snapped, interrupting the man. "We don't have all day."

He paled, mouth snapping shut at the look he received from his old teacher. With a shaking hand, he made a motion to the left side of the table.

"W-Would you like to go first P-Professor McGonagall?" Keller asked, voice trembling a little.

Harry was pretty sure he had been a Gryffindor at school. The other Houses had no idea of how scary McGonagall could be. She was much more strict with her cubs than with the other students.

Professor McGonagall nodded stiffly and walked closer to Keller. Nervously, the wizard took out a long golden rod, which was thin and flexible as a car aerial, from the sleeve of his robes, holding it up and passing it up and down the older woman's front and back. It glowed for a second before turning back to its original state.

"W-Wand, please," He cleared his throat, putting down the golden rod and holding out his hand.

McGonagall handed her wand over. Harry watched with curiosity as Keller placed the wand on a strange brass instrument, which looked something like a set of scales with only one dish. The instrument began to vibrate and, a second or two later, a narrow strip of parchment came speeding out of a slit in the base.

The wizard tore it off and read the writing upon it.

"N-Nine and a half inches, made of fir wood, with a dragon heartstring core. It has been in use for –" He paused, glancing at Professor McGonagall before continuing nervously, "– quite a long time. Is that correct?"

"Yes, Mr. Keller." She replied, taking her wand back.

He turned to James, pausing when he saw ice-blue eyes staring at him with promises of pain.

"I – Er –" Keller gulped, pointing to where McGonagall had been standing. "Y-You're next?" He _asked_, almost whimpering.

Professor McGonagall rubbed her eyes, shaking her head at her former student's behavior.

James crossed his arms and did as asked. For a moment, while Keller used the rod to scan the man for anything illegal (or whatever it did), the small thirteen years old witch wondered if her Great-Uncle's weapons would be found. But then she recalled that magicals didn't know anything about guns and nor did they think that it could be dangerous, so she threw that thought away. It was doubtful that the weapons would be detected.

"C-Clear," Keller said, looking like he wanted to cry with pure relief when James stepped away from him. "Wand, please."

"I don't have one." James said coldly.

Keller opened his mouth as if to ask for clarification but decided against it, turning his attention to her.

"M-Miss Potter – I can't belie –"

"Mr. Keller." Professor McGonagall warned him.

Keller flushed, holding up the golden rod. Under James' coldly gaze, he moved the rod as quickly as he could before shakily asking for her wand.

"Eleven inches, holly, phoenix-feather core, and has been in use for four years." He read without a pause, taking a deep breath at the end, "Is that correct?"

"Yes," Harry said, frowning a little when the wizard took his time to examining her wand with awe before giving it back to her.

"Thank you." The emerald green eyed girl muttered politely.

Keller opened his mouth to say something but Professor McGonagall's interrupted him firmly.

"Thank you, Mr. Keller. Now, excuse us," With that, she lead Harry and James away from the desk and back into the stream of wizards and witches walking through the golden gates.

After the gates, they reached a smaller hall beyond, where at least twenty lifts stood behind wrought golden grilles. Confused, Harry stopped beside Professor McGonagall, holding James' hand as she wondered what the older witch was waiting for.

Her question, however, was answered as soon as this thought came to her as a great jangling and clattering lift descended in front of them. The golden grille slid back, allowing the trio to move inside the lift along the small crowd of creepy cloaked people that had been standing close to them. The grilles slid shut with a loud noise after no one else stepped into it and the lift moved slowly, chains rattling all while the same cool female voice Harry had heard in the telephone box spoke.

"Level 9, Department of Mysteries," The cool female voice said. It didn't elaborate and the lift doors rattled open.

They waited until all the cloaked people made their way down the corridor before making exiting the lift. The corridor was as creepy as the cloaked people; it was dark, had no windows as well no doors apart from a plain black one set at the very end of the corridor.

James narrowed his eyes, keeping her close and staring at the bare walls of the corridor as if someone was going to jump from the shadows and curse them. Not that he was wrong in doing so, Harry thought as she shivered; it felt like there were people staring at her despite the fact that she couldn't see anyone else there besides them.

"Why're we here?" He asked.

Professor McGonagall pursued her lips, looking as unhappy as he was at being there.

"Unfortunately, this is the only way to access the courtroom." She replied.

Harry expected them to go through the door like the cloaked people had done, but instead Professor McGonagall lead them to the left, where one could find a flight of steps.

The trio quickly reached the bottom of the steps and walked along yet another corridor, which looked rather similar to the dungeons at Hogwarts with its rough stone walls and torches in brackets.

This corridor was filled with heavy wooden doors with iron bolts and keyholes. In almost every door, one could find an golden number or runes carved in the wood and if Harry had to guess she would say that those must have been the courtrooms. After being asked about it by a curious thirteen years old, the Transfiguration teacher quickly explained that the plain doors without any other kind of mark lead to the public stands, which was where they would be sitting.

Professor McGonagall stopped in front of one of the doors without any number and opened it.

Inside, there was a room. It was dimly lit and there were no windows, merely torches in brackets like the ones from the corridor. There were rows and rows of witches and wizards who seated on benches rising in levels along each wall in the square room. At the very center of the room, the raven haired girl noticed as she stood on her tip toes for a bit, was a chair with chains encircling its arms. Not too far from the chair, there was a tall and medieval looking cage.

The room felt tense and Harry couldn't be more thankfully when they made their way to one of the lower benches on the corner of the room. It was empty enough to not make her feel like _she _was the one being judged.

An ominous silence fell over the room as everyone sat down and the click of a door locking somewhere was heard.

The only ones talking were Dunbledore, Fudge and a square-jawed witch with close-cropped grey hair and a monocle. The three of them were sitting on the highest benches of all, which was facing the chair in the center of the room.

Beside her James perked up slightly, as if he heard something. There wasn't even time for her to process this action as the door on the far left of the room was thrown open and the ice-blue eyed man pulled her close.

_Dementors_, Harry grimaced, burying her face into James' chest as the cold from the creatures reached them.

The Dementors flew slowly toward the chair in the center of the room, each grasping one of the pale and sock looking Peter Pettigrew's arms with their dead and rotten-looking hands. The rat-man looked like he had been crying and the raven-haired girl could see that he was trembling like a leaf. Around her, people stared at Pettigrew, whispering about his missing legs.

Harry tried to not think about it nor how James smirked at the sight.

After a second or two, two Aurors walked into the room, each of them holding the arms of a chained Sirius Black. The room broke into gasps and whispers, most of them questioning when the escaped convict had been captured and why was he there in the first place.

While her godfather was escorted to the chair, the Dementors threw Pettigrew inside the cage, hovering next to it as the man curled into himself, crying and whimpering.

Her lips pressed together as she saw this, torn between pitying the traitor or being disgusted by him.

Professor Dumbledore stood from his chair as soon as the chains in Black's chair locked around the man.

"Greetings," He said, voice echoing through the room like a thunder, "We're all gathered here today to find the truth behind the night of October 31st, 1996."

Blue eyes scanned the room as the old wizard paused. Thankfully, he never paid attention to the corner Harry was sitting alongside James and Professor McGonagall. Instead, the Headmaster focused his attention on the second highest bench in the room which one could find about fifty people, all of them wearing plum-colored robes with an elaborately worked silver W on the left-hand side of the chest.

Those, the girl guessed, must have been the noble members of the Wizengamot.

Whispers broke through the room as Dumbledore continued speaking, explaining that new evidence of Black possible innocence had been found as well that Pettigrew, one of Black not-so dead victims, had been somehow involved in her parents betrayal and consequently murder.

"The interrogator for both trials shall be Amelia Susan Bones, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement." Dumbledore nodded to the monocle-wearing witch who gave a sharp nod in return and stood from her seat, walking away do she could stand before Black. Meanwhile, the Headmaster continued, "Because of the nature of this trial, the accused will be submitted to _Veritaserum _and will be refused the presence of a lawyer."

Harry gasped.

That – They could do that? They could just refuse the accused's right of a lawyer?! Even the more monstrous criminals in the Muggle Word had the right to choose if they wanted to defend themselves or if they wanted a lawyer!

"What's _Veritaserum_?" James asked Professor McGonagall.

"One of the strongest _Truth Serum _ever created," The sharp eyed woman explained. "It's impossible to lie under its influence."

Harry's head snapped in her direction, "Is that why they won't let him have a lawyer?"

The Cat Animagus shook her head, "No." Professor McGonagall said, "When a crime is committed against a noble family like yours Miss Potter, no matter if the family is a minor one or not, the accused of said crime is banned from requesting the presence of a lawyer and the _Veritaserum _will be used. It's the law, Miss Potter."

The thirteen years old girl's face twisted.

"If it's law, then how come Mr. Malfoy wasn't given the potion?"

James spoke, his face blank, "It's a new law."

Professor McGonagall nodded, looking displeased.

"Indeed," She agreed. "The law was created years after Mr. Malfoy's trial."

Before anything else could be said, Amelia Bones raised, ceasing all sounds in the room.

She nodded to herself with a sharp look that reminded Harry of Professor McGonagall. Turning to Sirius, she spoke, her voice echoing like thunder; strong and intimidating.

"Sirius Black," She said, "you are accused of the betrayal of James and Lily Potter as well the murder of twelve muggles," Madam Bones said, "How do you plead?"

Grey eyes looked at her, firmly, "Innocent."

Gasps and outraged whispers filled the room. Harry thought that there was no need for such reaction but she should have expected such thing from wizards and witches.

Madam Bones pulled a vial with a clear, colorless Potion from the pocket of her robes. It was almost indistinguishable from water, the only difference being that the Potion seemed to glow.

Black opened his mouth without complaint, gaining a measured look from Madam Bones as she dropped three drops on his tongue.

Immediately, bright grey-eyes darkened, the pupil dilated and Black's face relaxed, closing his mouth as he stared at Madam Bones with a blank expression on his face.

He looked like a living statue.

"I'll be asking a few questions to ascertain if the Potion is working properly." Madam Bones announced, eyes never leaving Black as she spoke. "State your full name."

"Sirius Orion Black IV." Black replied, voice raspy and holding a rather dreamy quality to it.

"What's the date of your birth?"

"November 3, 1973."

Madam Bones nodded, "What was the name of your owl while in Hogwarts?"

"Black Sabbath."

It was easy so see who was a pureblood and who had a connection to the non-magical, all one had to do was check who looked amused at the name and who looked confused.

"I believe the Potion is working – Therefore, I shall begin the interrogation." Madam Bones said, eyes flicking to Headmaster Dumbledore and Fudge.

The old wizard nodded while the Minister looked thoroughly disconcerted, as though he didn't know what to think about this trial.

"Mr. Black, were you the Secret Keeper of James and Lily Potter?" Madam Bones asked.

"No."

The courtroom broke out with shouts of outrage, being silenced by Professor Dumbledore after the blue-eyed wizard raised one of his hands with a disappointed look.

"So you were a decoy?"

"Yes." Black replied.

"Who was the real Secret Keeper of James and Lily Potter?" Madam Bones asked, not sounding all that surprised with his answers.

If Harry had to guess, she would say that the older witch had already questioned both Black and Pettigrew before in private, and this trial was only for show.

"Peter Pettigrew."

Half of the wizards and witches around her were muttering again while the other half was screaming, standing up from their seats as they frowning and shook their heads, looking a little pale.

It took a while to calm everyone down but when she did, Madam Bones asked for Black to recount, with details, exactly what happened twelve years ago.

Harry looked at her feet as her godfather started talking about that night. Her heart was thumping loudly under her ribs and her eyes burned as she heard how happy her parents had been to celebrate her first Halloween and how he later found her in a destroyed nursery, her mother's dead body over her own, as if trying to shield her from something.

Then Black stopped talking, receiving the antidote for the _Veritaserum _and leaving behind a tense and stunned silence that was only broken by Madam Bones.

"Those in favor of clearing the accused of all charges?" Madam Bones said in a booming voice.

Harry's head snapped upward to see almost every hand in the room raise up in the air, even those who didn't belong to the Wizengamot. Fudge didn't raise his hand, at least not until Professor Dumbledore whispered in his ear.

Immediately, the Minister flushed, raising his hand ad high as he could. Harry snickered.

Madam Bones arched her eyebrow before turning to look at Black once more, "Mr. Black, we, the members of the Wizengamot, find you innocent of all the charges laid against you." At those words, she took a parchment from the pocket of her robes. Harry blinked as the parchment glowed and the monocle wearing witch started reading, "You will be given ten thousand galleons for every year you were forced to stay in Azkaban as compensation and the Ministry of Magic will be covering all costs of medical treatment you will be receiving from now on."

The woman cleared her throat, putting the parchment aside.

"We'll be going through a break now," Madam Bones announced. "In one hour, we'll hold the trial for Peter Pettigrew."

James placed a hand over her shoulder as Harry sighed. Professor McGonagall made a motion with her hand for them to follow her after the court was adjourned and everyone was dismissed. Instead of going back out the way they came though, they waited for the right moment to approach Black who was standing with two Aurors and Madam Bones.

Grey eyes focused on her immediately and a breathtaking smile appeared on his face, replacing her godfather's previous tired expression.

"Harry!" He whispered, as if he couldn't believe she was there.

Hearing her name, the Aurors and Madam Bones turned to stare at her. Thankfully, Professor Dumbledore was too far away and too focused on his conversation with a panicked looking Fudge to notice her. The thirteen years old girl really didn't want to deal with the Headmaster right now.

"Hello, Mr. Black," Harry smiled softly.

H shook his head, "You can call me Sirius, you know."

The small girl continued smiling, not having the heart to tell him that she didn't feel comfortable enough to do so. At least not until she knew him better.

"Mr. Black," Professor McGonagall stepped forward, nodding her head with a tilt of her lips.

The long haired man beamed, "Minnie! You came to see me! I knew I was your favorite!"

Harry gasped.

Minnie? Did Black just call McGonagall _'Minnie'_? He was really courageous or a suicidal idiot.

The woman looked down at him. If looks could kill…

"Mr. Potter was my favorite student, not you Mr. Black," Her Godfather pouted at this, looking like a kicked puppy. Professor McGonagall arched her eyebrow, "And I'm here to accompany Miss Potter and her guardian."

"Guardi –" Her godfather froze, finally noticing James hovering behind her. "Ah," He muttered, glaring a little, "It's you."

"Black," James said, voice cold as his eyes.

The grey-eyed man pursued his lips, looking like he wanted to say something but, before he could, Madam Bones approached them.

"Forgive me for the interruption, but I need to take Mr. Black to the Healers." The woman said, apologetic. She smiled a little at McGonagall, "Professor, it's good to see you again."

"You as well, Miss Bones."

Madam Bones turned to look at Harry and James, offering her hand, "Good Morning, Miss Potter and Mr…?"

"Barnes. James Barnes." James smiled charmingly, prompting his raven-haired niece to snort and roll her eyes.

_Bond_, she thought with humor, _James Bond._

Her godfather gave her a look filled with mischief, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking. Harry grinned at him making him laugh.

"Pleasure to meet you, Madam Bones." Harry said, knowing that it would be impolite to not greet the older woman.

The witch adjusted her monocle with a small smile and a nod, "Well, if you could excuse us –"

Emerald green-eyes widened as the other witch started to turn around with her pouting godfather.

"Wait," She said, stepping before Black and offering him a small package. "Here, for you."

The small girl flushed a little at the look her godfather gave her. It was like he had never seen someone like her, as if she was precious.

With shaky hands, he took the package from her, taking a deep breath as he tore the paper to reveal a small black dog plushie wearing a lion outfit.

"I made it myself," She said shyly as he looked from the plushie to her and back again. "I hope you like it…" Harry smiled as he hugged the little dog, "Merry Christmas, Mr. Black."

Gasping for air and with tears streaming down from his eyes, her godfather smiled widely, "Merry Christmas, little star."

**So, next chapter will have the end of Third year as well the introduction of a certain Marvel character. As for Malfoy… Well, he better sleep with his eyes open.**

**Anyway… Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to: **

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM. **

**-Cissnei.**

**TIMELINE!**

**November 1, 2008 – **_James leaves the castle with Peter Pettigrew and Sirius Black._

**November 5, 2008 – **_Dementors leave the castle._

**November 9, 2008 – **_Article about Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew._

*****_First Quidditch Game: Gryffindor X Slytherin _**(**Gryffindor Wins**)**

**November 27, 2008 – **_Defence Against the Dark Arts with Snape substituting for Lupin._

*****_Full Moon_

**November 29, 2008 – **_Ravenclaw X Hufflepuff _**(**Ravenclaw Wins**)**

**December 8, 2008 – **_McGonagall takes the names of those who will be staying at Hogwarts._

**December 20, 2008 – **_Hogwarts Express back to London._

**December 24, 2008 – **_Christmas Eve._

**December 25, 2008 – **_Christmas Day._

**December 27, 2008 –** _Trial of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew._


	14. Chapter 14

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry. _

**Just a warning:** _FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Age Difference, Messed Time Line, More in the Future _

**Just so you know (Name):** _FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from an Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is an Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits. _

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 14. A Man Called Stark**

After Christmas, time had gone by so quickly that Harry felt rather surprised when, one Monday morning, she looked at the calendar in her dorm room to see that it was already _March_.

The small thirteen years old was a little dazed on the morning of this discovery as she and Neville left the castle together, crossing the vegetable patch and making their way toward the greenhouses, where Herbology was taught as well where all magical plants were kept.

"It's just… is strange," Harry admitted, gripping the leather strap of her messenger bag. "I'm starting to feel paranoid, things have never gone so smoothly."

Neville nodded, frowning a little, "I know what you mean – Usually, something would have happened by now and we would all be staring at our calendars, begging for time to pass faster so the school year will finally come to a end."

The two friends shared a look, refusing to voice their thoughts out loud in fear of jinxing themselves but agreeing that there was no doubt that something would be happening sooner rather than later. Things like a peaceful and normal school life never lasted in Hogwarts.

"Harry!"

Said girl's eyebrow twitched and her grip on the strap of her tightened. Neville scowled, trying to not look like he wanted to grab her arm and run as fast as he could.

Slowly, they turned around to see Professor Lupin walking in their direction and holding a box against his chest.

"May I speak to you?" He asked with a small smile.

"I have Herbology now," Harry replied politely, trying to not show how uncomfortable she was.

The small girl wished that James hadn't left the castle early that morning to talk to the Goblins about something. She would have felt safer with him there.

Professor Lupin was a good teacher and maybe even a good man, but his interest on her was a little creepy. And Harry had enough experience with this kind of thing to know that such interest couldn't mean anything good; for both her and the older wizard.

"Ah," Professor Lupin said. He considered Harry for a moment with a odd look on his face before saying, "It'll be just a second."

Neville opened his mouth to speak, giving Professor Lupin the same look he had given James before he knew who the ice-blue eyed man was to her. Harry took his hand, cutting him off.

"Ok," She gave him a small – _fake _– smile, "but it has to be fast."

Harry ignored the look Neville sent her, as if he was questioning her sanity. He probably was and, to be honest, so was she. But she hoped that with talking to him, the scarred man would leave her alone.

"Mr. Barnes is going to be furious," her blonde haired friend informed her, ignoring their teacher's curious look.

Harry grimaced.

_Furious _was an understatement. Knowing him, _murderous_ would have suited her Great-Uncle's future reaction better.

"Don't worry," Harry said, wondering if she was trying to convince her chubby friend or herself. "It'll be just a second."

Neville opened and closed his mouth before he made his decision.

Staring at Professor Lupin with narrowed eyes, the thirteen years old wizard sighed, "I'll warn Professor Sprout that you're going to be late."

The raven haired girl then noticed their Herbology teacher striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by the Hufflepuffs.

With that, Neville made his way to Professor Sprout. There was a moment of silence as Harry crossed her arms and waited to hear what Professor Lupin had to say.

"I…" Professor Lupin cleared his throat, "I don't know if I told you, but I was friends with your parents, your father more so…"

Harry arched her eyebrow. Yes, he had told her that already.

The amber-eyed man continued, "I was also friends with Sirius… Your godfather, I mean…"

The small raven-haired girl scowled slightly.

Over the holidays, Harry had stayed in contact with her godfather; learning more about her parents' childhood from his letters. And, while the ex-escaped convict had spoken about Neville's parents and a few old classmates, Sirius never said anything about Professor Lupin.

"I wanted to know if you knew why he isn't getting my letters?"

With pure disbelief, Harry gave him a look before she blurted out, "That's it? That's why you have been stalking me?"

No, she thought after a moment. If contacting Sirius was the problem then his interest on her won't have existed before her godfather's trial.

Professor Lupin sputtered, eyes wide, "Stalk – No! Why would you think so such thing?"

Emerald green-eyes stared at him as if questioning his sanity.

"You watch me all the time and you follow me around, sir," Harry informed him politely, now feeling more annoyed than uncomfortable. "That's stalking."

Professor Lupin sputtered a little, paling as if he only now saw his actions for what others would perceive it as. He opened his mouth to speak but Harry interrupted him, pulling out a scrap of parchment and a muggle gel pen from her messenger bag and began scribbling on it.

"Here, sir, give this to the Goblins," Harry offered the paper to him. "They're the only ones allowed to pass any kind of correspondence to Sirius."

Professor Lupin blinked, "I –"

Before he could say anything, the scarred man was interrupted by the arrival of Snape. The greasy haired Potions Master wascarrying a goblet, which was smoking faintly, and stopped at the sight of Harry, his black eyes narrowing.

Harry stared back, never being one to be intimidated by Snape.

"Ah, Severus," Professor Lupin said, smiling weakly. "Is that…?"

Snape handed the smoking goblet to him, his eyes wandering between Harry and the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The small girl had no idea of what he was thinking but it clearly wasn't anything good.

"I was just talking to Harry about something." Professor Lupin said, pleasantly, placing the slip of paper she had given to him inside the pocket of his robes.

"Fascinating," Snape drawled, "You should drink it now, Lupin."

"Yes, yes, I will."

Although he said that, Professor Lupin hesitated as he took the goblet.

Snape gave him a intense look. Harry narrowed her eyes, finding it suspicious. It wasn't a secret that Snape loathed Professor Lupin and that he did everything he could to not be in the other man's presence for longer than necessary.

So… What did Snape want?

"Lupin," Snape smiled nastily, "You don't want any _accident_ happening do you? You won't want to _infect_ one of our students, would you?"

Professor Lupin paled, the hand which was holding the goblet started shaking.

Harry observed their infraction in silence and mentally cataloguing every word and action, just like how her Great-Uncle had taught her. There was something happening here and the more information she got, the better.

"I – Yes, of course, you're right," grimacing, Professor Lupin drank half of the contents of the goblet.

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape continued. "If you need more."

At this, Harry's flickered toward the potion, trying to memorize the color and smell coming from it. Whatever this potion was, it was important.

The scarred man drank the rest of the potion, looking a little green, "I-I should probably take some again later, yes. Thanks very much, Severus."

"Not at all," Snape said with that unpleasant smile of his. Sending one last look at Harry and taking the goblet back, the black haired man turned around and walked away, his robes billowing with invisible wind as he moved.

Professor Lupin watched him go before giving Harry a trembling smile, "Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," He explained. "Is for my, ah, illness."

Harry hummed but didn't say anything about it.

It wasn't a secret at Hogwarts that Professor Lupin was plagued by a mysterious illness that caused him to be confided in the Hospital Wing for days. He had missed a lot of lessons because of his illness, having to be substituted by some of the other Professors. So far, the Gryffindors had Dumbledore and Flitwick as substitute.

"Well," Professor Lupin said, looking like he just wanted to open a hole on the floor and hide from the rest of the world there, "I better be going, I don't want you to be more late than you already is."

He gave Harry a small, weak smile and walked away without giving her the chance to speak, following the path Snape had taken early. Harry stood there for a moment, trying to understand what had just happened before deciding to put any thought about this strange encounter aside.

She would talk with James about it later.

* * *

Harry did tell James about the strange encounter with Professor Lupin and Snape.

Unfortunately for her, her best friend turned traitor decided to tattle and recounted everything that she had omitted from her Great-Uncle. Meaning, that Neville told James about her talking to Professor Lupin alone.

If she hadn't known that the veteran would have learned about it later on (Because Harry knew that she could never hide anything from her Great-Uncle), then the green-eyed witch would have been rather cross with her chubby friend.

"Nothing happened!" Harry reassured James for the hundredth time in the last two minutes, trying to not grimace.

She hated whinnying like this; it made her feel like a skinner female version of Dudley. But no matter how much she tried, the thirteen years old couldn't convince James that she was fine and that nothing happened. Despite his stalking tendencies, Professor Lupin had only wanted to talk about Sirius and they practically didn't even do that because of Snape's arrival.

"_Charis_."

She clamped her mouth shut, looking up into her Great-Uncle's eyes with apprehension as he tilted her chin gently with his hand.

"Next time," James informed her, "Make a excuse. Do not speak to Lupin without someone there with you."

"Ok," Harry agreed, knowing that there will be no such thing as _next time_.

"Or just hit him where it hurts and then run."

"I'll _Kick the Punk Where it Hurts_," she quoted dutifully, grinning at her long haired Great-Uncle.

"Good girl," James said, lips twitching up as his eyes warmed with amusement.

Green-eyes blinked as a thought hit her.

"Oh, yeah!" She said, face palming, "I almost forgot!" Her Great-Uncle's back straightened as he looked at her with keen eyes, "Uncle James, there is something really strange going on with Professor Lupin and I think Snape knows about it or is involved somehow."

James pursed his lips, "Tell me."

Describing everything with as much detail as she could, Harry told him all about the goblet and Snape's attitude towards Professor Lupin as well said man's reactions to the Potions Master's words.

"I think there was some kind of double meaning or hidden message there…" Harry mused to herself.

"Probably both," The long haired man said, humming as he stared out of the window. "I'll look into it. Leave it to me, doll, and just enjoy the rest of your school year."

Harry giggled as he reached out to ruffle her hair. She smiled widely, happy that she had James with her. The green-eyed witch knew that she could trust him to have her back and to trust her. Different from all the other adults in her life.

There was a knock on the door before it opened to reveal Neville. He scanned the abandoned classroom they had been using to talk before he focused on the duo.

"Hello, betrayer," Harry said dryly, turning her head to stare at him.

James snorted when Neville paled, sputtering as he tried to distract her.

"S-So – Er – Are you ready to go to DADA, Harry?" The blonde haired boy asked nervously.

There was no answer. She stared at friend with unblinking doe-like green eyes, making him sweat a little.

"D-Did you hear that Professor Lupin left the castle?" Neville shifted his weight from one foot to the other, "S-Strange, right?"

Silence.

When she noticed that he was close to panicking, Harry smiled. The small thirteen years old couldn't stop herself from giggling when her friend pouted, having understood that she was teasing him.

James shook his head fondly at the duo.

"Come on, kids. You don't want to be late," The ice-blue eyed man said, pulling the hood of Harry's Invisibility Cloak up and disappearing from view.

Harry took hold of Neville's arm, smiling when she noticed that her Great-Uncle had grabbed her shoulder gently, and the duo – plus their invisible companion – started walking.

They weren't too far from the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom and soon came to a halt in front of its door. As Harry pulled the door open, Neville muttered a small prayer under his breath; hoping that the substitute teacher this time around would be either Professor Flitwick or Dumbledore.

Unfortunately, in Hogwarts, things rarely worked as you wanted them too.

James's grip on her shoulder tightened and Harry grimaced, resisting the urge of sighing in defeat. Beside her, Neville paled as dark eyes looked up at them from behind the teacher's desk.

_Snape_. Of all teachers in this school, it _had _to be _Snape_. Why was it always _Snape_?!

"Potter! Longbottom!" Snape sneered nastily, "You're late!"

Her blonde haired friend couldn't even move, frozen in place as his mind tried to process what was going on. Harry discretely looked down at her wristwatch, pursuing her lips when she noticed that _no, they weren't late_.

She didn't say anything, knowing that they would be losing points no matter what.

As if trying to prove her point, Snape said, "I think we'll make it ten points from Gryffindor. Now, _sit down_."

Taking Neville's hand, Harry guided her poor terrified friend to the back of the room. As they did, more students entered the room, all of them letting their displeasure evident the moment they noticed who was Professor Lupin's substitute.

Snape looked around the class, black eyes glittering. Immediately, Harry knew that the man was planning something unpleasant.

Absentmindedly, she wondered if it had anything to do with the strange encounter from that morning.

"Professor Lupin is sick again," his eyes darkened as a twisted smile appeared on his face, "and has not left any record of the topics you have covered so far –"

To the horror of many, Hermione interrupted him, her hand narrowly missing Lavender's face as it shot up in the air.

It was in situations like this that people understood why the bushy haired witch had been sorted in Gryffindor. Only a lion would be courageous – or at least stupid – enough to interrupt one of Snape's speeches.

"Please, sir, we've done boggarts, Red Caps, kappas, grindylows, ghouls, trolls, dark spirits –" She listed quickly, as if under the effects of several _Pepper Up Potion_, wide bloodshot eyes fixed on the Potions Master.

Harry observed her in silence, noticing that the older witch hadn't been sleeping well. Honestly, the small girl wondered how Hermione was even moving, thinking and talking. With the amount of working she had been doing since the beginning of the year, it was rather surprising that she hadn't had a break down yet.

"Be quiet," Snape snapped coldly. "I did not ask for information. I was merely commenting on Professor Lupin's lack of organization and professionalism."

Harry snorted.

"Do you have something to say, Potter?" He asked her, as if waiting for something.

She discretely patted James' hand as his fingers twitched.

Despite thinking that the greasy haired man was the last person on earth allowed to talk about _professionalism _when he didn't even know what such thing meant,the raven haired witch smiled politely.

"Nothing, _sir_," Harry said dryly.

Ron, however, did have something to say.

Puffing his chest up, he glared at the black wearing man with defiance, "He's the best Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher we've ever had. You can't talk about him like that!"

Seamus hissed while the others gave the red-head similar looks of disbelief.

The tall, black eyed teacher looked more menacing than ever as he bared his yellowed teeth at Ron. Surprisingly, he didn't take a single point off.

"You are all so easily satisfied." Snape said, disgusted, "It seems like Lupin has been rather lax – I would expect first years to be able to deal with Red Caps and grindylows."

Now, that was a lie. Snape knew very well that no first year would have the right amount of power and control to deal with those magical creatures. But then again, the vampire-like man didn't look like he cared – All he wanted was to insult Professor Lupin.

Suspiciously, Harry observed as Snape flicked through a copy of their textbook, clearly looking for a specific topic.

"Today lesson will be about _werewolves_," Snape said after he found what he wanted in the very back of the book.

Harry scowled behind her own book, not liking the large smile on his face. Actually, she never liked it when he smiled.

A smiling Snape was a bad omen on its own.

"But, sir," Hermione almost jumped from her seat, seemingly unable to restrain herself, "we're not supposed to do werewolves yet, we're due to start on –"

"Miss Granger," Snape said, deadly calm, "I was under the impression that I am teaching this lesson, not you. And I am telling you all to turn to _page 394 _so we may start our lesson on _werewolves_." He glanced around again and when no one moved, he snapped, "All of you! _Now!_"

With many bitter sidelong looks and some sullen muttering, the class opened their books. Harry helped Neville find the right chapter, noticing that her friend was a little lost.

"Which of you can tell me how we distinguish between the werewolf and the true wolf?" Snape asked, hands behind his back.

Everyone sat in motionless silence; everyone except, _of course_, Hermione whose hand had shot straight into the air, shaking it a little for good measure. As if no one would have been able to see her otherwise.

"Anyone?" Snape said, ignoring Hermione like he always did. His twisted smile was back again. "Are you telling me that Professor Lupin hasn't even taught you the basic distinction between the werewolf and the true wolf?"

Ron opened his mouth to make some kind of remark about how they hadn't learned about it yet but was stopped by Fay Dunbar, who placed a hand over his mouth.

"Well, well, well," Snape tutted, "I never thought I'd meet a third-year class who doesn't even know how to recognize a werewolf when they saw one."

There was something about the way he said that. It was like a hint, as if he was trying to show them something without saying it out loud.

Knitting her eyebrows together, Harry tried to put the clues together.

Snape continued speaking, "I shall make a point of informing Professor Dumbledore how very behind you all are…"

"Please, sir," Hermione, whose hand was still in the air, said, "the werewolf differs from the true wolf in several small ways. The snout of the werewolf –"

"That is the third time you have spoken out of turn, Miss Granger," Snape said coolly. "Five more points from Gryffindor for being an insufferable know-it-all."

Hermione went very red, putting her hand down, and staring at the floor with her eyes brimming with tears. Harry pursued her lips.

Back in her second year, she would have jumped at those words, ready to defend her best friend. But Hermione wasn't her best friend, and after the way the older witch treated her during the whole Heir of Slytherin business, she wasn't even _a_ friend. So, as much as Harry hated the way Snape treated his students, the thirteen years old felt that it wasn't her place to be Hermione's witch in shinning robes.

Not anymore.

"Hey!" Ron, who had made up with Hermione a little before Christmas, yelled, "You asked us a question and she knows the answer! Why ask if you don't want to be told?"

The class knew instantly felt as the temperature of the room dropped. Snape advanced on Ron slowly, and the room held its breath.

"Detention, Weasley," Snape said silkily, his face very close to Ron's. The red-haired boy made a face, looking disgusted, "And if I ever hear you criticize the way I teach a class again, you will be very sorry indeed."

No one made a sound after that. They sat in silence, with their heads down as they made notes on werewolves from the textbook, while Snape stalked up and down the rows of desks, talking about ways to identify a werewolf that couldn't be found in their textbooks.

At some point, Harry was staring at the blackboard, eyes flicking toward the dates written there. Snape, for some reason, had written down all full moons that happened during 2008 and that would be happening during 2009.

She was tapping her quill against the table in thought when James cursed softly in Russian. Harry checked to see if Snape was near by before she wrote down on her book and pushed it aside so James would see it.

_What's it?_

The small girl jumped slightly when she felt her Great-Uncle place his hand over her own, copying her handwriting perfectly as he wrote:

_What those dates have in common aside from the full moons?_

Looking back at the blackboard, Harry stared. And stated – It took longer than she would have liked for all the clues that had been presented to her to start making sense.

_Oh_, she thought faintly, _oh… That makes sense..._

Professor Lupin was a werewolf.

* * *

Two weeks into May, Harry found herself in the library, hidden away in the History section with James. She was working on Professor Binns' three foot-long essay on _"The Influence of Wizards in Muggle Wars"_ when Ron Weasley's frustrated voice reached her ears.

"I don't believe it, I'm still eight inches short!"

Harry raised her head, trying to not move too much. Her Great-Uncle was using her lap as a pillow and she didn't was to disturb him.

Peeking through the bookshelf across her, she saw Ron sitting with Seamus Finnegan, Parvati Patil and Dean Thomas. They seemed to be working on their Potions essay if all the books around them was any indication.

Unconsciously running a hand through James' hair, Harry observed the group in thoughtful silence, waiting.

"_Shhhh_," Madam Pince hissed from somewhere in the library.

Seamus, Dean and Parvati rolled their eyes, sharing identical looks of annoyance.

Ron ignored her as he continued complaining, "Hermione already finished her own essay and her writing's tiny!"

"She's Hermione," Dean reminded him dryly.

There was nothing else to be said. That was the only explanation they needed to understand how the older witch had already been able to write so much.

"Where is she anyway?" Seamus asked without much care as he checked his essay, trying to see how much he still needed to write to finish it. By the look on his face, it was a lot.

Ron pointed in direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts section, "Somewhere over there."

"Professor Lupin didn't give us any homework," Parvati said, confused.

The red haired wizard shrugged, "She is looking for books about werewolves."

"Uh," Harry blinked.

Ever since she found out about Hogwarts' resident werewolf, the small green-eyed girl had wondered how long it would take before someone else found out about Professor Lupin's condition. It wasn't all that surprising that Hermione was the one to figure it out.

What surprised her was that the older girl hadn't ran to the Headmaster or Professor McGonagall with this information and was instead trying to find more information about werewolves for some unexplainable reason.

"_Why?_" Parvati asked, arching her eyebrows, "We already handed over that essay Snape gave us and he already graded it."

"I don't know," Ron grumbled. "She has been acting crazier than usual. Mental that one."

The other shared another look. They seemed to be thinking the same thing but hesitated to speak up. After a moment or two, however, Parvati ended turning her attention back to Ron.

"Look, Ron," She waited until he focused on her before continuing, "Speaking of her acting a little – Er, strange… You're her friend, aren't you worried about her?"

The emerald-eyed girl leaned back against her chair, happy to know that she wasn't the only one who had noticed how tired and sick Hermione had been acting lately. Maybe one of them could convince Ron to take Hermione to the Hospital Wing.

Despite not being Hermione's friend, Harry was still her roommate and fellow Gryffindor. So, the small raven haired girl tried to talk to Professor McGonagall a few days after she found out about Professor Lupin's furry little problem. She informed the woman of how stressed Hermione was and how the girl hadn't been sleeping or even eating.

But nothing happened.

The Gryffindor's Head of House dismissed her concerns. The Transfiguration teacher informed her that Hermione was a responsible girl and that if there was truly something wrong with her, then the bushy haired witch would gone to the Hospital Wong herself.

So, Harry truly hoped that someone would talk to Hermione before it was too late and the other girl had a breaking down.

"Why?" Ron scrunched his nose.

Parvati looked at him with disbelief, "She has been working herself to death!"

"She's starting to get paranoid," Dean added. "She snapped at me the other day for day dreaming, screaming that I should leave her alone and stop staring."

"She's losing weight," Seamus pointed out, "That can't be a good sign."

There was a moment of silence as Ron let go of his quill and seemed to think about their words, knitting their eyebrows together. At the same time, Hermione emerged from between the bookshelves. She looked furious, hair bushier than usual as if she had been electrocuted.

"All books about werewolves were taken out," she growled, sitting down next to Ron who stared at her in silence. "The Slytherins and Ravenclaws took them all! I'll have to wait until Monday to be able get one of the books and –" The brown-eyed witch paused, snapping at the boy beside her who hasn't stopped staring at her, "_What?!_"

"You look pale," Ron said, squinting his eyes. "Did you eat today?"

Hermione was taken aback. It took her a while to recover, turning her head away.

"Of course!"

That was a lie, Harry thought, eying the way the other witch's hands were trembling. She couldn't remember seeing Hermione in breakfast that day.

"Are you lying?" Ron asked, now sounding concerned.

Any other day, Hermione would have been flustered and pleased that the boy was actually worried about her. But, instead, she straightened her back and bared her teeth, as if she was a cornered wild animal.

"What're you trying to say, Ronald?" She asked.

Sensing the danger, Harry tensed and scanned the library in search of Madam Pince only to find the woman missing.

Ron gave her a look, "Nothing! You just look sick!"

"I'm _not _sick." Hermione growled, "_I'm fine!_"

There was a flash of gold as she reached out to grab the chain around her neck and Harry paused, narrowing her eyes. James seemed to notice the way she tensed because got up and sat beside her, leaning closer.

"What's wrong, doll?" He whispered.

The small thirteen years old didn't answer, trying to get a better look of Hermione's necklace. She didn't know why, but something told her that it was involved in the girl's foul mood and horrible health. And Harry had long ago learned to trust her instincts with things like that.

"Look," Ron was saying, raising his hands a little, "maybe we should visit Madam Pomfrey? I think you studied a little too much today and –"

"I'm not going to the Hospital Wing!" Hermione practically screamed, pulling the chain of her necklace unconsciously.

Emerald green eyes glimmered with recognition when she finally saw the necklace. Harry couldn't believe what she was seeing.

"_Merlin_," Harry whispered in disbelief. "Is that – McGonagall won't have…"

She could feel her Great-Uncle's eyes on her, but didn't say anything. Harry was so focused on the necklace that she didn't even notice when James moved away from her.

"Leave me alone, Ronald! I know what I'm doing! Professor McGonagall won't have trusted me with it if I couldn't!" Hermione hissed, grabbing her thing and stomping away from the table.

Frustrated and confused, Ron stood up as well, "What're you talking about?! _Hermione!_"

Before he reached her, the girl tripped on nothing as she tried to leave. Hermione tried to hold onto the nearest bookshelf but it inexplicably fell over her and Ron, causing several people to scream and run to help, including Madam Pince that had finally decided to show up.

Harry stood up and would have ran to help as well when a familiar gloved hand grabbed her wrist.

Immediately, she knew.

"_Uncle James_," Harry hissed, "Did you do that?"

"They're fine," The invisible man replied.

Taking a deep breath, Harry looked back to see that he was right; both Ron and Hermione were fine. The bookshelf hadn't been as close to them as she had thought, having fallen just a few centimeters away from the shocked duo.

She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted when something was placed in her hand.

Harry froze.

Slowly, the small witch looked down and opened her hand to see the golden, sparkling hourglass hanging from the chain that had Hermione had been using around her neck.

No wonder Hermione had been able to go to all those classes as well why she was getting so paranoid…

"What's that?" James asked as he sneaked his arms around her and rested his chin against her shoulder. "Charis?"

Harry licked her lips, still in a state of disbelief. She couldn't believe that Professor McGonagall (and it had to be her) had actually given Hermione access to a magical artifact like this one.

"It's a Time-Turner," She blinked a few times. "I just –"

Harry shook her head and turned her attention back to the necklace.

She won't give it back to Hermione, especially not after the way the bushy haired girl had been using it.

So, what was she going to do with it?

* * *

"Since when do you wear necklaces, Harry?" Fred asked as he sat across her, reaching out of a toast.

At this, Neville looked up from the Herbology book he was reading and gave her a curious look.

The girl touched the golden chain around her neck and shrugged, "I use jewelry everyday." Harry showed off her bracelet to demonstrate her point.

"Not necklaces," George said, sitting on his brother's left and stealing a sausage from his plate.

"Uncle James gave it to me, why won't I use it?" Harry huffed.

It wasn't even a lie, not really. James _had_ taken the Time-Turner from Hermione and he _had_ given the artefact to her. He had also convinced her to keep it but her friends didn't know that.

Not yet at least.

She would tell them about it later. But Harry wanted to wait until they were far from the castle before doing so.

A little distracted, she scanned the Great Hall. She looked over the students' heads to the staff table that ran along the top wall of the Hall and immediately noticed that not only was Headmaster Dumbledore missing but so was Snape and Professor Lupin.

For a moment, she wondered if something had happened and if it had anything to do with the Defense Against the Arts' teacher's condition. Had Snape, who had clearly been trying to get rid of Process Lupin, finally got what he wanted?

"Hey, uh," Harry turned to look at Neville as the boy hesitated, "Where's Hermione?"

George took a bite of his oatmeal, "Last I heard from dear little brother," He casually pointed at Ron who was eating from a plate filled with bacon, "they both had to go to the Hospital Wing after an incident in the library," Harry looked down slightly, trying to not wince as she took a bite of her pancakes, "but while Ron was fine, Madam Pomfrey told Granger to stay. Apparently, the woman was furious for some reason."

"Is Hermione sick?" Neville asked, surprised. Hermione had never gotten sick before and she was always pretty smug about it.

George shrugged while Fred replied, "I don't know if she's sick, but with how exhausted she looked the last time I saw her, I won't be surprised if Madam Pomfrey forced her to stay in bed so she would sleep a little."

Neville leaned back a little and nodded slowly, "She did look tired lately."

The boys changed the subject after that, talking about the next prank the twins were planning while Harry finished her pancakes and reached out for a cup of tea.

Just then, the mail arrived. Abouta hundred owls streamed into the Great Hall, circling the tables until they saw their targets, dropping letters and packages onto the students' laps or stopping for some food.

Hedwig fluttered down between the marmalade and the sugar bowl and dropped a Muggle newspaper onto Harry's empty plate and waited for the small girl to give her bacon before starting to eat.

"I thought you didn't like reading the Daily Prophet?" Neville asked as she placed the newspaper aside.

Scanning their surroundings, Harry spoke very quietly, so that the other Gryffindors could not hear, "It's Uncle James'," She showed the front of the newspaper so they could see the unmoving pictures, "He likes to read it in the morning."

The boys leaned closer.

"Where's he anyway?" Fred asked as he eyed the newspaper with interest. He, much like George and Neville, seemed to be fascinated with the fact that nothing in that newspaper moved.

"He's either running around the Quidditch Pitch or the Black Lake. He does that whenever he can," The raven-haired witch replied, shuddering.

She couldn't imagine anyone voluntarily running around the Quidditch Pitch or the Black Lake. But then, her Great-Uncle wasn't just _anyone_.

As if he was summoned by his name, she felt her invisible Great-Uncle sit beside her. He patted her head and Harry smiled happily as she discretely gave him the newspaper.

She started talking to the boys about Gryffindor's next Quidditch match, giggling as the twins joked about what Oliver Wood would do if they lost the game. It took her more than she would like to admit to notice that while the Muggle newspaper was laying forgotten beside her, James wasn't there anymore. The green-eyed girl nipped her bottom lip for a moment, trying to understand why he would have left without warning her; he had never done that before.

Ignoring her friends questioning looks, Harry took the newspaper, noticing that it was a little wrinkled, as if James had gripped it too tightly, and that a picture had been ripped from it.

The headline under the hole which the picture had previously occupied read: _WHAT'S TONY STARK'S VISION OF A BETTER FUTURE?_.

She ignored the whole interview, frowning.

Who was Tony Stark and why did he seem to be important to James?

* * *

**T.S**

It was May and not even an hour ago, he had finished his presentation of the Jericho missile in middle of the Afghan desert to a large of soldiers who looked like they were children in a candy store as they looked at the missile.

Nothing unusual there.

Everything had gone as planned. The presentation had been perfect and followed the script to a _T_. But then, it was over and here he was… Inside a Humvee and surrounded by blank faced G.I. Joes.

Even with _Back in Black _by AC/DC playing on the old and ancient CD player one of the soldiers had brought with them, Tony Stark couldn't keep himself from pursuing his lips slightly, feeling unhappy.

If there was one thing that he hated, it was the heavy and uncomfortable silence hovering over all those sitting inside the convoy.

None of the soldiers tried to talk, be it between themselves or to him. For a moment, Tony wondered if he, in his expensive and clearly out of place three piece suit and tie, was _that_ intimidating.

No, the brunette mentally scoffed, that wasn't it.

The baby soldier sitting beside him (And he was a baby. The kid couldn't be older than eighteen or nineteen) shifted in his seat. He was sending a few not so discreet glances in Tony's direction and, by the looks the other G.I. Joes were sharing, the billionaire wasn't the only one who noticed.

Observing them all, it finally clicked.

As much as he didn't like the silence, Tony finally understood a little why they were all so tense and unsure. He knew that soldiers in Hot-Zones, anywhere really, were pretty a tight-knit, and the sudden inclusion of an outsider – _a civilian! _– wasn't something that they were used to or even knew how to deal with.

None of that meant that he would start to like the accursed silence, but he understood**.**

With this in mind, he kept himself relaxed. Enjoying his drink under the harsh and unforgiving sun of Afghanistan and trying to give them time to get used to his presence.

"Dude," One of the soldiers, Kelsey if the name tag was to be believed, finally – _finally_ – broke the silence, "He isn't sweating. Not even a drop. How does he do that?"

"I'm more interested in the ice," His friend, Jackson, replied dryly, squinting at the drink tumbler of vodka Tony was holding. "Why didn't it melt already?"

Tony arched his eyebrow, "Well, well, you guys do speak."

The two soldiers jumped a little, looking embarrassed. Ramirez, the driver and only woman there, used the rear-view mirror to give them a _look_.

"I feel like you're driving me to court martial. This is crazy. What did I do?" There was only silence. Tony decided to try again, "I feel like you're gonna pull over and snuff me. What, you're not allowed to talk? Is that it?"

The kid sitting beside Tony grinned, fidgeting with his orange NY Mets watch. The brown eyed billionaire could remember one of the soldiers saying his name before they had stepped inside the convoy… But what was it again? John? Johnny? Ah, yes, Jimmy. His name was Jimmy.

"No." Jimmy the baby soldier said, "We're allowed to talk."

"Oh." Tony drawled, "_I see._ So it's personal."

Some of the soldiers smirked while others tried to contain their laugher.

"Nah," Ramirez sounded a little amused, "you intimidate them."

"Good god! You're a woman!" Tony exclaimed, eyes wide as if he was in shock.

This time, those who had been holding back their laugher lost the battle; snickering and snorting with amusement.

"I mean," Tony continued, "I, honestly, couldn't have called that."

By this point, even the stoic Ramirez's lips twitched up to resemble a smile.

It was really difficult for Tony to not show just how pleased he was with this outcome. Instead, he kept going;

"I would apologize, but isn't that what we're going for here?" He asked, "I saw you as a soldier first."

"I'm an airman," She informed him.

"Well you actually have excellent bone structure there," Tony let his sunglasses slid down his nose a little so they could see it as he batted his eyelashes, "I'm having a hard time not looking at you now. Is that weird?"

_Victory_, Tony thought with triumph as all the soldiers, including Ramirez, burst out laughing and the atmosphere inside the Humvee seemed get lighter.

Hopefully, there won't be more silence.

Pratt, who was sitting beside Ramirez, turned around, "Sir, can I ask you a question?"

"Yes!" Tony said, "Please."

"Is it true you're twelve for twelve with last years Maxim cover girls?" Pratt asked.

Ramirez rolled her eyes, still smiling.

"Excellent question." Tony took off his glasses and made a motion with his hands, "Yes and no. March and I had a schedule conflict but, thankfully, the Christmas cover was twins. Anyone else?"

Jimmy the baby soldier raised his hand nervously.

The billionaire turned to squint at him, "You're kidding with the hand up, right?"

Jimmy grinned sheepishly, "Is it cool if I take a picture with you?"

"Yes," Tony replied, not seeing a reason why he shouldn't indulge the kid, "It's very cool."

Grinning even wider than before, Jimmy excited took out a digital camera from one of the pockets of his pants and handed it to Pratt before sliding over closer to Tony.

"I don't want to see this on your MySpace page," Tony told the kid firmly.

The kid nodded quickly and put a Peace Sign. Tony held back the urge of smirking when he noticed this by the corner of his eyes.

"Please, no gang signs," Tony informed him, not all surprised when Jimmy very quickly dropped his hand, grin trembling a little. The engineer almost sighed.

Kids those days didn't know how to notice when people were being sarcastic.

"No, I'm kidding, put it up!" He said jokingly. "Peace. I love peace. I'd go out of business for peace."

Jimmy beamed and both grin and Peace sign were back at place.

At the same time, Pratt was trying and failing to understand how the digital camera in his hands worked. Tony immediately recognized it as one of the ones issued by _Stark Industries_ but didn't say anything, not wanting to embarrass the poor soldier even more as Jimmy, with annoyance all over his face, informed his friend which button he had to press to take the picture.

"No, not that one! Are you trying to change the settings?"

"You told me to click it!"

"I said to click the button on the right."

"What button?"

"The one on_ my_ right, you idiot, not _yours_!"

Ramirez, Kelsey and Jackson snickered as the duo argued. Tony's lips twitched and he opened his mouth, taking pity on Pratt when, suddenly, the convoy that has been driving in front of theirs _exploded_.

Ramirez buried her foot against the break and as his body was thrown forward, drink falling from his hand, Tony took a deep breath and looked around them with alarm.

"What's going on?!" He asked, trying to process what had just happened.

The soldiers were far too stunned and didn't answer. In a blink of the eye, however, all of them snapped out of it and immediately leaped in action.

Ramirez opened her door, rifle in hand, but she had barely stepped out of the Humvee before she was shot down.

_Shit_, Tony blinked, taking a deep breath. He could hear his heart beating against his chest as he stared at Ramirez's lifeless body.

Although Ramirez was dead, the others scramble out of the Humvee.

"Jimmy – Stay with Stark!" Pratt yelled as he locked Tony with the baby soldier.

At the same time, the Humvee behind them exploded.

Scanning his surroundings, Tony noticed that Pratt was crouched behind the hood of the Humvee, firing steadily, when suddenly – He was dead and the windshield shattered.

Unfortunately, the billionaire wasn't the only one who noticed this.

"Sonuvabitch!" Jimmy hissed angrily. He turned to look at Tony, "Stay down!"

Tony practically felt his heart stop when the baby soldier opened the door of the Humvee, ready to join the fight and avenge his friend.

"Jimmy!" The brown haired man called, not caring if he was sounding desperate, "Wait, wait, give me a gun!"

He was ignored.

"Stay here!" Jimmy ordered, slamming the Humvee's door shut.

The billionaire couldn't find it in himself to be surprised when, not even seconds later, both Jimmy and the wall of the jeep had been ventilated by a spray of bullet-holes that came right through the Humvee as if made from nothing but air.

Brown eyes blinked rapidly as he looked around him.

He – Tony needed to get out of there.

Taking a deep breath, Tony got out of the Humvee as fast as he could while trying his best to not be killed by a stray bullet. He had no idea of where he was going but he was leaving.

Alive, definitely alive.

He refused to die in the middle of the Afghan desert of all places.

His ears were ringing at the sounds of gunfire and explosions. And as he moved away from the jeep, Tony had already decided on a plan.

If he wanted to survive this whole thing, he would have to contact someone. At least give them a chance of tracking him down.

Throwing himself behind a rock, Tony pulled his Sat-Phone out his suit. Quickly, he dialed Obadiah Stane's number, praying that his godfather and business partner would pick up the call and that –

The brown haired man froze as a familiar sound reached his ears over all the explosions.

Slowly he turned in direction of the sound to find a mortar shell dug into the sand not too far from his rock. It was a smooth cylinder with two rounded ends and Tony – Tony recognized that design.

His eyes widened with disbelief as he stared at the _Stark Industries_ logo etched on the side of the mortar. He wasn't stunned for long though, his whole body going alert as a low electronic whine came from the mortar.

_That's Stark Industries anti-personnel mortar_, Tony found himself thinking as he stood up, trying to move away. _It has a timer, instead of exploding on impact. The timer depends of –_

He was cut off as the mortar shell exploded. He had barely been able to move to safety and was immediately caught in the explosion which threw his body backwards.

Tony barely felt it as he landed on the ground, gritting his teeth aa he touched his chest and felt the blood there from the at least half a dozen tiny shrapnel that had hit him. Just he was clawing his shirt open to see the damage, Tony passed out.

The next time he woke up, he was tied to a chair and had bloody rags covering his chest. He was dirty and even breathing hurt, making it difficult to stay awake but Tony was conscious enough to understand what kind of situation he had been dragged into.

Staring at the armed hooded man reading something for the camera before them, the billionaire bit his tongue.

It looked like staying alive would be more difficult than he could have possibly thought.

But that's ok.

_Fine_.

This wasn't his first rodeo. The brown eyes man knew very well how this whole thing worked. Those guys wanted something from him and would keep him alive until they got it.

All he needed was a little of patience and before they knew it, he would find his way out.

He was Tony Stark – He didn't need to be saved.

**You won't believe how **_**relieved **_**I'm to be free from this chapter. I rewrote it at least twenty times. It was so difficult to finish it that I already finished the next chapter before being over with this one… Although I'll wait one or two days before publishing it.**

**Anyway… Merry Christmas everyone and hope you liked this chapter. And please, don't forget to: **

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM. **

**-Cissnei.**

**TIMELINE**

**December 24, 2008 – **_Christmas Eve._

**December 25, 2008 – **_Christmas Day._

**December 27, 2008 –** _Trial of Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew._

**January 4, 2009 –** _Hogwarts Express back to school_ **(**Sunday**)**

**March 9, 2009 – **_Snape substitutes for Lupin again._

*****_Harry finds out that Lupin is a werewolf._

**March 10, 2009 – **_Full Moon._

**May 15, 2009 – **_Harry finds out about Hermione's Time Turner_** (**Friday**)**

**May 16, 2009 – **_James leaves breakfast abruptly after seeing an article about Tony Stark _**(**Saturday**)**

**May 20, 2009 –** _Tony Stark is kidnapped._


	15. Chapter 15

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry. _

**Just a warning:** _FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Age Difference, Messed Time Line, More in the Future _

**Just so you know (Name):** _FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from an Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is an Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits. _

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 15. The End of the Year**

**T.S**

He woke up with a start, feeling disoriented and in pain. Panicked, he tried to understand what the fuck was going on... It was then he recalled the explosions as well the horrible sight of one of _his_ own weapons exploding before him. After that, he recalled those men…

_Oh, _Tony choked and gagged as he tried to gasp for fair, _I was kidnapped, wasn't I?_

Feeling something strange on his nose, his hands flew to his face. His arms hurt, as if he had slept in the wrong position, andhe choked in pain beforehis fogged brain recognized the thing on his nose as a _tube_. He turned his head slightly in a attempt to move his arm and pull the tube when he finally noticed an older, balding man humming a tune as he shaved by a broken mirror in the corner of the dark cave.

But more importantly…

There was a jug of water on the table beside his makeshift bed and now that he thought about it, he was really thirst.

Tony tried to speak, mostly to demand a little of water, but he couldn't and it was the damn nasal tube fault… Gritting his teeth and ignored his burning arms and aching body, he pulled said tube, gagging as two of feet of tubing slithered from his nose.

The balding man kept humming even as Tony turned his head and yanked the IV from his arm. With more difficulty than there should have been, the brown-eyed billionaire quickly reached out for the jug of water but before his fingers could even touch it, he felt something tugging him back, making him gasp.

Looking down, he found a wire coming from under his chest bandages. He moved to touch it but was stopped.

The balding man didn't even look back as he spoke, "I wouldn't do that if I were you."

Tony's eyes flickered in his direction before he pulled the bandages under he froze as he fingers brushed against _metal_. Panicked, he ripped his shirt open to see that a round metal plate just beside his heart and that it had not only been cut _into _him but that the wire was hooked up to a _car battery_.

Whiskey brown eyes blinked rapidly as Tony tried to keep himself from a panic attack.

Pushing himself upright with difficulty, he stared at the balding man, trying to not let his panic show on his face. The old man had finished shaving and moved across the cave, making it possible for Tony to look at him properly. He tall and thin, wearing neat and clean clothes although the faded colors and rips on them showed that he didn't have anything else to wear. That made him wonder if the guy was also some kind of prisoner or if he was one of the kidnappers.

"What the hell did you do to me?" Tony asked, the words coming out a little strange. He could barely move his tongue.

The balding man, who had started to make some kind of stew on a old pot, didn't answer for a moment. He cheerfully stirred the stew, causing Tony to pursue his lips.

"What I did? What I have done is to save you life," He finally replied, nonchalantly. "I removed all the shrapnel I could, but there's a lot left and it's moving into your atrial septum," He stood up, walked in his direction as he pulled a small jar out of his pocket and tossed it to Tony. "Here, wanna see? I have a souvenir – Take a look!"

Tony almost dropped the jar but was able to hold onto it, wincing as he looked down at it. The pieces of shrapnel that weren't all shattered were triangular and had grooves cut into the flat sides. It made him sick because those triangular pieces were proof that he hadn't been wrong when he thought that it was one of _his _weapons that left him in this situation.

The billionaire gripped the jar tightly.

"I've seen many wounds like that in my village," The old man continued, as if he was talking about the weather. "We call them the walking dead, because it takes them a week for the barbs to reach the vital organs."

Tony didn't say anything for a moment, deciding to change the subject, "What is this?" he tapped the plate on his chest.

The old man looked at it, "_That_ is an electromagnet hooked up to a car battery." Tony resisted the urge of saying something like _No shit, Sherlock?!_ "And it's keeping the shrapnel from entering your heart… at least for now."

There was a part of Tony that couldn't help but be impressed with the old man work, especially in such conditions. Another part of him scoffed; he could have done better than that.

Shaking his head, he finally noticed the small CCTV camera in the corner.

The old man looked over his shoulders before giving him a knowing look, smiling cheerfully, "That's right. _Smile!_"

Tony gave him a _look_ but the man ignored him, going back to stare at the pot. The brown-eyed man would have said something if his stomach hadn't decided to start growling from hunger. He looked away from the pot.

"We met once you know," The older man said. "At a technical conference in Bern."

"Don't remember," Tony drawled.

The old man seemed to find it funny, "No, you wouldn't… If I had been _that_ drunk, I wouldn't have been able to stand, much less give a lecture on integrated circuits."

The billionaire took a deep breath, "Where're we?"

If his companion was going to answer, he lost the chance to do so when the door on the corner opened slightly. The brown haired genius could hear as someone shouted in a foreign language.

Immediately, the old man's head snapped in direction of the door, forgetting the stew as he rushed closer to Tony. For the first time since he had first seen him, the billionaire could see a hint uneasy behind that calm and cheerfully mask.

Raising both of his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, the old man spoke, "Come on, stand up!" Tony merely stared, "Do as I do!"

Narrowing his eyes a little, Tony did so. His arms hurt and barely wanted to obey him but he was still able to mimic the other man.

The door opened fully, and in came a man with a trimmed bread accompanied by two guards. The man was grinned widely spreading his arms as if he was ready to greet and impress an old friend. Tony was neither his old friend nor was he impressed. Actually, he was much more focused on the weapons they had with them.

Those weapons – Those guns right there?

They were _his_.

It was _his _design, _his _creation.

"Those are _my _guns," Tony said more to himself than to his companion. "How did they get _my_ guns?"

This… This shouldn't be happening. His weapons were created to protect his country's people and soldiers. What –

The leader, whoever he was, stopped vefore Tony, talking in some language the billionaire couldn't recognize. That wasn't a language had heard before.

His companion's job, apparently, was to be his interpret, "He says; _'Welcome, Tony Stark. America's most famous mass murderer'_." The old man looked at him.

Tony resisted the urge of letting out a sarcastic _"as if I had never heard that before"_. Instead, he observed his kidnappers as the leader kept talking and the old man started gave his simultaneous translation.

"He is honored. He wants you to build him a missile you were demonstrating. The Jericho Missile." There was a short pause as he stressed, "_For him._"

_Should have guessed_, Tony thought with dark humor.

All his kidnappers always demanded for the same things; money, weapons or both. Not that they were got what they wanted.

The leader shoved a picture on his face; it was a promotional one he had told Rhodey to send his Generals when asked about the missile. His eyes flashed as a thought hit him – There was one way for the guy to have gotten his hands on that picture in particular…

Tony smiled mockingly and said, "I refuse."

There was no need for a interpret. Those two little words were simple enough for the leader to understand. His overly cheerfully disposition dropped much like a house of cards in a blink of the eye and before Tony could even process what was happening, his head was duck in a tank of dirty and cold water.

He thrashed and tried to not panic too much. Not that he was successful as he was held down for longer than he expected and just started to freak out for oxygen.

His ears started ringing and, for a second, he thought he heard a woman call for him. Her voice was rather familiar but he couldn't say why.

Before he could use this as a excuse to stop and thinking, maybe even calming himself in the process, whoever was holding him down pulled him back enough to give him a gulp of air before shoving him back under the water again.

As he head slammed against the bottom of the tank and his mouth opened in reaction. He gagged and chocked, starting to see black spots before his eyes.

Something told Tony that they would keep doing this for a long time. And maybe they did. Unfortunately, he couldn't breath but less think straight enough to keep track of time. What he was able to do was remember things like the moment the chest plate was placed inside his body, a chest plate that was keeping him alive and giving those bastards power over him…

They pulled him up once more and all Tony could do as he took a gulp of air was blink as he his brain started working once more and he had a rather interesting idea… Maybe even a _stupid _one (Rhodey and Pepper would have definitely called it stupid, while adding words like dangerous and reckless), but it was still a _interesting _idea that could be his way out…

He needed to plan though; get himself some time and plan before doing anything.

_This_, he thought dryly as he desperately clutched the car battery (When had it been taken from him and _when _had they given it back?!) tightly, _is going to be a pain._

Literally.

The two troll-like guards put a bag over his head and dragged him down a corridor by his arms as if he was some kind of hag doll. If he had any strength to complain, Tony would have definitely made a joke about it just to irritate them but, unfortunately, it was difficult to even keep his eyes open.

Later, his arms were released and the bag was yanked off his head. Tony shut his eyes under the sudden and hot sunlight, feeling a headache forming.

Someone pushed him forward and the old man from before helped him stand as he slumped. He guided Tony who blinked his eyes until they adjusted to the light and he could see that they were in a cleft between two stone mountains. The entrance of the cave could be seen at distance, far from what seemed to be a narrow canyon. Between the canyon and the cave was the rest of the camp, which was covered by camouflage netting.

Tony pursued his lips slightly at the sight.

By the looks of it, he would truly have to find a way out on his own. It would be practically impossible for any kind of rescue party to find the cave.

Well, good thing he hadn't been hoping for a rescue.

Scanning his surroundings, he caught sight of a few sandbags, mounted guns, more or less sixty guards, a few vehicles and weapons – _His_ weapons.

Brown eyes blinked slowing when the leader step in front of him and started speaking. The old man didn't waste time before translating, "He wants to know what you think."

Well, he was thinking about a lot of things, including more than ten different ways for him to get out of there. But the billionaire was sure that this wasn't what he wanted to know so, instead, he said:

"I think he got a lot of my weapons."

Tony didn't know if the old man translated his words properly nor did he care. Something told him that the question was rhetorical.

The leader (And Tony seriously needed to come up with a name for this guy) started speaking while the old man translated, "He says you'll have everything you need to build the Jericho missile," Tony arched his eyebrow slightly at this. "But he still wants you to make a list of materials. He says for you to start working immediately and when you are done, he will set you free."

_Ha ha_, Tony thought, smiling widely,_ that's a fun joke._

Still smiling, and making sure to look relieved and hopefully, the brown eyed genius held out a hand, shaking the leader's hand as if he was one of his business partners.

"No," Tony said cheerfully. "I won't."

The old man looked amused as he repeated his words in whatever language his kidnappers spoke. The leader's eyes hardened and Tony kept smiling despite the pain he knew would be coming to him.

_Time_, he thought as he was grabbed by his hair, _I just need time to plan properly and put it in motion._

Yes, he decided, Tony could make this work, no matter how much pain he had to go through until then. All he wanted was his survival and would get it in the end.

* * *

**C.P**

Everything and everyone had a limit.

_And I_, the green-eyed witch mused with annoyance as she stomped down the familiar corridor leading to the empty classroom her and her friends started to use as some kind of headquarters, _seem to have found mine._

James was free to have as many secrets as he wanted and it was her job as his niece to stay out of the way despite all her worries and let him be until he decided to talk about it.

_But _–

But the moment James started to look worried (_Haunted_) and tried to hide it from her – Well, Harry knew that she couldn't leave him be anymore. If only her Great-Uncle would _stop avoiding _her and let her interrogate him properly. At least then she would be able to help somehow, even if it was by just giving some kind of moral and emotional support.

"Uff," Harry shook her head as she collided against something, having not been paying attention to where she was going.

Before she fell back on the cold stone floor, someone grabbed her arms, keeping her still before letting go.

"Than –" She stopped, not finding anyone. Immediately, Harry leaped forward and clutched the familiar fabric of her Invisibility Cloak. "I'm not letting you leave this time!" She said childishly, acting like the thirteen years old girl she was, "Now, you'll have to talk to me!"

Although the small girl couldn't see him, she could still imagine the way James blinked before he understood the meaning behind her words. Silently, he guided her to the headquarters and closed the door as he pulled the hood of the her Invisibility Cloak down.

"Charis," James gave her a look, "I'm not ignoring you."

The thirteen years old scoffed, crossing her arms and giving him a look of her own, "Well, that's not what it looks like to me."

Her long haired Great-Uncle rubbed his eyes with a sigh.

"_Charis_…"

At the tone of his voice, she nipped her bottom lip, shoulders dropping as she looked at him with concern, "Uncle James…" The small witch hesitated, "Are… Are you worried about the man from the newspaper? Tony Stark wasn't it?"

Ever since that morning when he ripped the man's picture of the newspaper, Harry noticed that whenever Tony Stark was mentioned, James got this distance look on his face but this read whatever article about the other despite how much it seemed to pain him to do so.

A week or so later, Harry noticed that the newspapers were connected with her Great-Uncle's strange behavior. Concerned, she had asked one of the older Muggleborns in Gryffindor about any kind of important news coming from the non-magical World and all he said was that _"Tony Stark was kidnapped, didn't you hear?" _and the green-eyed girl knew that she had found the reason behind all James' worries but…

But there were still questions to be answered.

She just couldn't understand why this Tony Stark was so important... Had James known him or someone related to him? Had… Had he killed anyone the other man loved while he was still under the control of his so called handlers? Was that why he seemed so obsessed with Tony Stark?

James stared at her before walking to the teachers' table at the back of the room and sitting down. Harry followed him, immediately taking note of the pile of books over the table. All of them were from the library.

There was a moment of silence as Harry grabbed one of the largest books, opening it to scan the pages. Although she couldn't read the runes in this book, the small girl recognized it as one of the books that she had seen in the hands of Sixth and Seventh Years students before.

Finally, after what seemed to be hours, James spoke, "He's Howard's son."

Harry looked at him and mouthed the name a few times until it clicked.

Howard was the name of one of James' friends during the war. The other man had been a genius and someone her Great-Uncle had admired, but – But Howard, James' friend Howard, was also someone the ice-blue eyed man had killed under the control of his so called handlers. Yes, he hadn't been in control nor conscious of his actions but James still felt guilty about it.

"Oh…" The raven-haired witch hugged the book close, feeling like she should apologize for being noisy.

She opened her mouth to do just that but James spoke up, "Tony is Howard's son and he's missing," He said humorless, talking more to himself than to Harry. "And I…"

He clamped his mouth shut.

There was no need for words though. Harry liked to believe that she knew her long haired Great-Uncle well enough to know that he wanted to find his old friend's son. He wanted some kind of redemption and maybe this was the chance he had been hoping for…

Despite all of this, James was clearly hesitant. No matter what he wanted to do, the veteran didn't want to force _his _presence on Mr. Stark. He was nothing more than a murder and he doubted that the other man would accept his help.

Harry straightened her back, trying to not show how sad she was at his train of thought. Instead, she smiled and did her best to look confident.

"Uncle James," She said slowly, "he couldn't possible blame you for whatever happened. You weren't yourself!"

James shook his head, looking into her eyes. She didn't know what he was looking for but whatever he found caused his lips to curl up in a weak smile filled with self-loathing. Harry opened her mouth to comfort him but her Great-Uncle interrupted her.

"Oh, doll," He said, kindly, "_he_ doesn't need to blame me. _I_ blame myself enough for both of us."

She averted her eyes at this, nodding her head in acceptance. The green-eyed girl didn't like it but she understood why he felt like that. She herself had felt something similar several times before in her life.

There was a moment of silence between them.

"You're going to look for him, right? That's why you have all those books…" Harry muttered, noticing some Muggle magazines under all magical books. Most of them spoke about Tony Stark's kidnapping.

His eyes were a little distant as he seemed to think about it before replying, "I want to try at least, but it isn't my place to do so…"

Harry gave him an odd look, "How so? He needs help doesn't he? And you want to help don't you?" She waited for him to nod before continuing, "Then what's stopping you? It can't be the guilty. That won't stop you from doing something."

At least she didn't think so. When James wanted to do something, he would so it without a single care about morals or rules. He waa stubborn like that.

The ice-blue eyed man opened and closed his mouth, before closing his eyes. Smiling softly, Harry poked his cheek making look at her. He took her hand, holding it tightly with his flesh and ungloved hand.

"Uncle James, are you going to look for him?" Harry asked.

Maybe it was just speculation from her part, but something told her that he had already made his decision.

The veteran inhaled deeply, brushing his lips against the back of her hand.

"I will," He replied with a small smirk. There was a lot left unsaid but the knowing glint in her eyes made it clear that she had heard it anyway.

The thirteen years old witch grinned, "Well, what're we waiting for?! Give me a book, I'm sure I can find something."

James smiled fondly as he handed a Charms book to her. Harry took the book, babbling about the kind of tracking spells that she had learned about in class.

They didn't find anything on those books but that didn't mean that they weren't going to continue their search.

The two of them _would_ find Tony Stark one way or another.

* * *

Since James left the castle early that day for his appointment, Harry found herself walking to the library.

The two of them had been trying to find a spell to track Tony Stark now for a while now. They hadn't been successful but that wasn't going to stop them, especially Harry who refused to give up. She had promised to help her Great-Uncle, she wanted to help him, and she would.

"So he's leaving?" Harry heard a Ravenclaw asking her friend as the two witches walked past her.

"From what I heard, yeah."

"…I still can't believe the Headmaster actually hired someone like him!"

Harry looked over her shoulder, hesitating for a moment before she continued walking. As she did, the raven-haired girl couldn't help but wonder if they were talking about Professor Lupin.

Had someone finally reported the man for being a werewolf?

Speaking of Hogwarts' resident werewolf…

Harry made a pause.

Nipping her bottom lip, the small witch debated with herself for a moment before losing the battle against her curiosity and, slowly, giving a few steps back to check if what she had seen wasn't her imagination... And, yep – There it was...

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom's door was wide open and, inside, she could see Professor Lupin packing his things. The dinosaur's fossils that he had placed on display at the beginning of the year were gone as was the tanks and cages he had used to house the grindylow and other small dark creatures they had been studying.

Professor Lupin's old battered suitcase looked to be almost full near an half-empty bookshelf while the man himself was bending over something on his desk.

_So he's truly leaving_, Harry deduced, turning to leave now that her curiosity had been sated.

It wasn't all that surprising; not with Professor Lupin being a werewolf. She was actually surprised that the Board of Governors hadn't sent a group of Aurors to escort the man out. Hopefully, they won't be waiting for him outside of the castle.

Professor Lupin made her uncomfortable with his stalkerish tendencies but he was still a good man… At least he seemed to be.

"Harry!"

She flinched slightly, hesitantly looking over her shoulders to find Professor Lupin's leaning out of the classroom with a smile.

"Going somewhere?" He asked friendly.

_Away from you_, she almost replied. But Harry merely gave him a tight smile and said, politely, "I'm going to the library. Have a nice day, sir!"

Before he could try to stop her, Harry started walking, practically running down the corridor. She only slowed down upon entering the library, wiggling her fingers as Madam Pince, the thin and irritable librarian, narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the green-eyed thirteen years old. That look wasn't anything new; Madam Pince gave that look to everyone who stepped into the library – Even Hermione who practically lived there.

"Look who we have here, brother," a familiar voice said from behind her, playfully.

Another, identical voice, continued, "I do, brother! It's the mighty Harrykins!"

Harry snorted as she turned her head to see the twins sitting on a table not far from her, surrounded by books and resting their chins against the palm of their hands aa they stared at her.

"She's here!" Fred gasped in faux surprise.

George made a face as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing, "She's actually gracing us mere mortals with her illustrious presence!"

Together, the duo leaned back and placed a hand above their hearts and chorused, "What an honor!"

Harry rolled her eyes fondly, walking in their direction and sitting down.

"You're talking as if you hadn't seen me in years," She said, placing her messenger bag over the table.

Fred arched his eyebrow, "Well, we hadn't seen you in a while."

The small girl sighed. She had to agree at this, she hadn't seen the twins a lot lately; first because they were busy with their OWLs (She had made them promise to at least try to get good grades) and second because she had been so busy between studying and searching for ways to track Tony Stark down that she barely stopped to talk with the boys.

"Point," Harry said. "Sorry, I have been busy."

George nodded, "Neville did say that you were looking for something."

"I said what?" The trio turned to see Neville blinking at them, rubbing his eyes with a yawn. The blonde haired boy looked exhausted, throwing himself on a empty chair and laying his head against the table.

Harry smiled softly, patting his head. The chubby wizard had been studying a lot for their end of the year exams. They weren't as important as their future OWLs and NEWTs exams but she could see that her friend wanted to get higher grades than he had gotten in their two previous years.

"That Harry was looking for something," George repeated.

Baby-blue eyes blinked slowly and said absentmindedly, "Oh, yeah, that's what I thought anyway…"

The small girl snorted before sighing, "I _have_ been looking for something." That's it, whenever she wasn't in the library or trying to make sure that James had enough sleep and didn't skip any meal.

The twins shared a look before staring at her with expectation.

Resting her chin against the palm of her hand, Harry nipped her bottom lip as she scanned the bookshelves surrounding them. After a moment, she said, "I'm trying to find a spell to track someone for James. He has been…" She tries to think of how to explain it, "He has been rather worried about his… friend…"

Although that was a lie, Harry couldn't find any other way to describe the possible connection between Mr. Stark and James.

"Did they disappear?" Fred asked while George looked thoughtful, making a mental list of all tracking methods he knew. Of the two, the younger twin was the one who knew more about spell work and Ancient Runes while Fred was a genius with Potions and Arithmancy.

"Sort of," Harry muttered, scowling down at her hands.

The raven-haired witch wanted to help James find this Tony Stark and also, by this point, she wanted to find him herself. She was rather concerned about the man. Dudley had watched enough action movies for her to know that a rich, genius man in the hands of terrorists couldn't possibly end well.

George looked at her, "What about the _Avensegium_ spell?"

Harry grimaced, recognizing the spell, "I would need something belonging to Uncle James' friend to make it work."

"Point," George nodded.

Fred hummed, "Did you look for books written by Aurors? There must be tracking spells there."

Before the small witch had the opportunity to answer, the sleepy Neville mumbled with half-lidded eyes; "You could always look for something that isn't used by Aurors."

His words were little difficult to understand but it didn't take long before something clicked in her mind and Harry gasped, jumping to her feet. The twins shared a look before turning their attention back to the excited thirteen years old girl.

"Nev, you're a genius!" She said, not waiting for a response before she ran in direction of the Care of Magical Creatures section of the library.

"I... am…?" Harry heard her blonde-haired best friend mutter and she could imagine him blinking his eyes as if to check if he was dreaming, "Er – Yeah… Sure... Yay..."

The twins snickered, finding their friend lack of enthusiasm and sleepy disposition hilarious.

Harry rubbed her chin as she stopped before one particular bookshelf, scanning the titles of the books. Emerald-green glimmered with victory as they landed on one particular book and Harry tiptoed and stretched her arm to reach it. It was a little difficult but she soon found herself holding a fairly large purple book with the title (_A Wizard's Field Guide to Magizoology by Jean-Baptiste Taunay_) written in silver.

Having found what she wanted, she sprinted back to the table she was sharing with the boys and opened the book, immediately checking the _Index_.

"Aha," Harry muttered, tapping a finger against the page.

"_Aha_ what?" Fred asked curiously as he the other two leaned against the table and craned their necks to see what was so interesting.

Harry didn't answer for a while, flicking through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

"Look!" The small witch smiled with excitement, turning the book so they could read:

**Tracking Methods**

_While all points described above are essential for any Magizoologist intending to go through field work instead of working in a more closed environment, tracking is something that _all_ Magizoologist should know. […]_

_[…]_

_With all of this in mind, I offer to you my reader a list of spells that shall help you track down any magical beast and, in several cases, living beings. I sincerely hope this list shall aid you in not only protecting species that are already known to wizards but also find new fantastic beasts this vast world of ours._

_[…]_

**Spell IV**

**Incantation:**_Appare Vestigium _**(**ah-PAR-ay ves-TEE-jee-um**)**

**Wand Movement: **_No Wand Movement_

**Description: **_A charm that reveals and illuminates any recent magical or non-magical activity, creating golden magical footprints and track marks in an area. The charm can show footprints and track marks from back to one month. […]_

"That's pretty cool," George said, taking the book from her so he could have a better look. "Why is it only used by Magizoologists? It would make Aurors' jobs so much easier…"

Fred snorted, arching his eyebrows, "They more likely ignore it because it was created by a French wizard."

The small raven haired witch sitting across them made a face, nodding in agreement. No one talked about it, mostly because the people of Magical Britain seemed to believe that their Aurors were best in what they did, but there were a lot of spells and Potions that the _Department of Magical Law and Enforcement _refused to use despite how useful and helpful they could be. And why was that? Well, none of those spells or Potions weren't made by British wizards.

British Aurors liked to say that they were patriots.

Harry thought they were all prideful and jealous idiots.

"Is Mr. Barnes' friend a Muggle?" Fred asked, "I don't think this will work on a non-magical."

Harry shrugged, her smile still in place. She couldn't wait to show this spell to James.

"The books does say that the spell _"reveals and illuminates any recent magical or non-magical activity"_," George pointed out. "If it doesn't work, we can just find something else. What do you think Nev –"

Harry turned to see why he had stopped, only to stare at the sight of Neville snoring and drooling as he mumbled to himself. The trio stared until one of the twins snorted. That made them start laughing, throwing their heads back and shaking their shoulders.

Madam Pince screeched from her desk but they didn't stop; it was far too funny.

Even after they were kicked out of the library, carrying the still unconscious Neville with them, the trio never stopped laughing.

Where was Colin Creevey with his camera when they needed him?

* * *

Whatever euphoria Harry felt after finding the _Appare Vestigium _was rather short lived when James informed her that while he was grateful for her help, she won't be the one casting the spell. He refused to take her to a place as dangerous as Afghanistan. Rescue mission or not.

The ice-blue eyed man had no idea of how he would be using the spell to track down Mr. Stark but he was sure that he would find a way. Meanwhile, he had given her a _look_, all Harry needed to do was focus on her exams.

The small thirteen years old pouted for a few days but did as he said, joining Neville whenever the other Third Years formed study groups.

Almost no student was seen out of the castle, everyone was far too busy forcing their brains into absorbing as much information as it could while mourning their lack free time as enticing wafts of summer air drifted in through the windows. Honestly, the only reason a student would have been seen out of the castle was Quidditch but ever since Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup back in April (Harry didn't think she had ever seen someone cry as much as Oliver Wood did that day as well the following week – The only reason he didn't sleep with the trophy was because Professor McGonagall didn't let him), a game between Houses was _very _rare.

"Miss Potter," Harry blinked, looking away from her Arithmancy book to look at Professor McGonagall, "Your exam schedule."

The girl took the paper from the older witch. The Transfiguration teacher quickly moved to give the others their schedule while Harry scanned the paper in her hands.

"Ugh," She heard Ron groan from the other side of the Common Room, "Divination will be on the same day as DADA."

"I have Arithmancy," Hermione informed him before he decided to ask.

Even so, he leaned to check her schedule.

"Hermione?" Ron called cautiously. "I thought you dropped Muggle Studies and Divination?"

"I did," She replied, confused.

"So why're you doing the exams for those classes…" The red-haired boy pointed out.

Hermione seemed surprised, looking down at her schedule before standing up to talk to Professor McGonagall. Harry stopped paying attention to them after, feeling rather happy that the other girl was no longer overworking herself to an early death, and instead focused her attention on Neville and the twins.

On Monday, their exams started. For the Third Years, their first exam was Transfiguration and by the end of it, everyone was looking a little pale, comparing results and bemoaning the moaning about some of the tasks McGonagall had given to them like turning a teapot into a tortoise and changing a cauldron into rubber. Hermione almost drove more than one student in a fit with her murmurings about how her tortoise had looked more like a turtle. Thankfully, Ron had been able to pull her away before Lavender Brown decided to jump on her.

After lunch, they moved upstairs for the Charms exam. Harry was practically jumping from excitement; this was one of the exams she knew she would be getting a good grade. Professor Flitwick enthusiastically tested them on the Charms they had learned that year, partnering them up and giving out hypothetical situations to see if they would know what Charm had to be used and how.

Finished, more than half of the students returned to their respective Common Room to studying for the exams they would be doing the next day while the rest had made their way to the Ancient Runes' classroom for their last exam of the day. The exam was fairly simple; Professor Babbling handed over texts out for them to translate… Although Harry noticed that not everyone would have describe the exam as simple. Many students looked rather lost and she won't be surprised to learn next year that half of them had dropped the elective or traded it for another.

On Tuesday, the first exam of the day was Care of Magical Creatures exam. Hagrid gave each of them a Fairy as well a list of things they had to complete with said Fairy's help and stepped back, watching and taking notes as the students took more than half of the exam's time to convince the Fairy to actually _look _in their direction.

Potions came next and Harry wasn't ashamed to say that she hadn't been able to get her Confusing Concoction to thicken. It was impossible to concentrate with Snape standing behind her, clearly hoping that her cauldron would either explode or melt. At least with the greasy man focusing on her, Neville had actually been able to brew his own Potion without trembling the entire time.

They had some time to relax before the Third Years had their Astronomy exam at midnight, up on the tallest tower. Harry yawned a few times, but she still drew a fairly good star chart.

History of Magic was unfortunately the first exam they had on Wednesday morning, which was filled with questions about medieval witch-hunts as well the impact it had on all Magical Communities found in Europe (Harry was so happy that she liked reading for fun because, otherwise, she won't have known how to answer at least ninety per cent of the exam). She wondered who wrote and would be grading those exams because last time she checked, Binns only cared about Goblin Wars.

After History, they had Herbology. Neville seemed to glow as they were told to identify all the kinds of herbs and plants and speak about them. It was a short exam and Harry soon followed the few students who took Arithmancy for the classroom where they had to answer questions about the history of the subject as well work on a chart that needed to be deciphered.

Their last exam (At least for those who didn't take Divination), which happened on Thursday, was Defense Against the Dark Arts. Professor Dumbledore showed up with a large smile as he informed them that they would be going through the exam Professor Lupin had prepared beforehand for his students. Surprisingly, it was a obstacle course outside of the castle where they had to wade across a deep paddling pool containing a grindylow, cross a series of potholes full of Red Caps, squish their way across a patch of marsh while ignoring misleading directions from a hinkypunk, then climb into an old trunk and battle with a boggart. It was fun for an exam… Well, part of it…

"I hate boggarts," Neville muttered, a little pale from his encounter with the boggart version of his Grandmother.

Holding his hand and looking a little, Harry tried to not burst out crying as she nodded, "Me too…" She whispered.

There was nothing else to be said. They walked in direction of the castle, ignoring the sounds of the other students laughing or scream coming from the obstacle course. Harry had just reached the top of the steps when a someone grabbed her shoulder.

Jumping a little, she looked around, relaxing when she didn't see anything.

"Hi, Uncle James…" She sniffed a little, leaning her head a little as he cupped her face gently.

Neville waved his free hand half-heartedly, "Hi, Mr. Barnes."

"Neville," James greeted him. "Are you alright, doll?" He asked, sounding like he was leaning close to her.

"Boggarts," Harry replied, grimacing.

Her Great-Uncle's fingers twitched before he pulled back. She could imagine him clenching and unclenching his hands, taking a deep breath to keep himself calm.

After a moment, he grabbed her free hand and squeezed, "Come on, why don't we get something to do drink before I leave?"

Harry opened her mouth ask him about it before she remembered that that morning, he had said something about having to talk to her godfather. It was probably about the spell to track Mr. Stark.

Knowing that he would just change the subject if she asked since he didn't want her involved in the rescue mission, Harry squeezed his hand back.

"Hot chocolate would be really nice right now," She said as they walked inside the castle, Neville nodding enthusiastically.

"With marshmallows!" Her friend added.

"Hot chocolate for the kids," James sounded like he was smirking, "and coffee for me. Hum, delicious."

The ice-blue eyed man laughed at the identical looks of horror the two thirteen years olds gave him. And, just like that, they forgot the boggart in favor of explaining how coffee definitely wasn't delicious.

* * *

**S.B**

It was late at night, possibly nearing midnight, but he couldn't sleep.

So, here he was, miserably sitting in his gloomy living room and unsuccessful trying to read the book in his hand.

Honestly, he didn't even know what book he was holding. He had grabbed the first book he could reach after the last letter he received from a man that he had once thought of as a brother. All he had wanted was to distract himself and forget that and other letters had even reached him.

Sirius Black ran a hand through his long hair, wondering when he would be able to enjoy his freedom without being bothered day and night by people who, until after his trial, hadn't even spared a single thought on him; forgetting everything that they knew about him and leaving him to root in Azkaban.

Pursuing his lips, his grey-eyes flickered toward the letter he had thrown on the corner of the room. He placed his book aside and leaned against his armchair, giving up on trying to read.

Just as he was ready to stand up and throw the letter in the fireplace, much like he had done with others, there was a familiar, ear splitting, bloodcurdling screech.

He sneered.

_What's it now?! _Sirius thought, furious. _Why's she screaming now?!_

Look, Sirius hadn't wanted to go back to this Gods forsaken place after his Healer allowed him to leave the hospital and live on his own with the promise that he won't miss a single appointment. But there wasn't another alternative, especially not when _that_ man lived with _his_ goddaughter. Thus, it was either his childhood home or taking his old "friends" offers of housing him.

And although the house wasn't all that bad, at least not after he paid the Goblins to give it a new look, it was still filled with bad memories and –

"Filth! Scum!"

And there was his _mother_.

_Merlin_, his _mother_!

Even after death that woman was still haunting him; screaming and driving him up the wall.

Pursuing his lips and pulse quickening, Sirius stomped out of the living room, making his way toward the foyer to see what had waken up his mother and why, _why _was the hag screaming because _Sirius _certainly wasn't at fault this time around.

He like the silence, thank you very much.

"Disgusting creature, be gone from this place! How dare you befoul the house of my fathers –"

There was another bloodcurdling scream. This one, however, was filled with pain and – dare he say it – _fear_.

The grey-eyed man came to a halt after he passed the row of house-elf heads on the wall, staring.

The moth-eaten velvet curtains that usually hid and muffled his mother's life sized portrait was open. The old hag herself dressed in a horrible Victorian black dress was drooling, her own grey-eyes were rolling and the yellowing skin of her face stretched taut as she screamed at the figure stabbing her portrait.

Open mouthed and shocked out of his mind, Sirius watched as the portrait of his mother was stabbed again and again. The woman screamed and screamed, howling at him for help ("Yoooou!" she screamed, her eyes popping at the sight of him. "Blood traitor, abomination, shame of my flesh! _Do something!_") until she finally noticed that the best alternative would be to leave.

He didn't even care that _Barnes _was standing in his foyer, nor did he care that the disgusting House-Elf he had inherited from his parents was bleeding on the floor. All he cared about was that –

He blinked, dazed.

That – That –

"You stabbed my mother," Sirius blurted out.

Ice-blue eyes focused on him, "You're welcome."

Sirius chortled, shoulders shaking.

Ever since he had started living in this house, Sirius had tried to destroy or at least destroy his mother's portrait but no spell worked. Maybe he should have tried Muggle methods because they clearly worked, even though he knew, from glancing at slightly ripped canvas, that he needed a more permanent solution to get rid of Walburga Black since the portrait could repair itself.

Shaking his head, he looked at the unconscious House-Elf.

Kreacher, his mother's extremely old and nasty House-Elf, was still laying flat on the floor, bleeding from his large, snout-like nose.

"Did you kill him?" Sirius asked, a little too hopefully. The Animagus wasn't even ashamed.

He hated Kreacher, had always hated him. There was no lost love between them and the ex-convict knew very well that the prejudiced House-Elf would dace happily if he was to die since that would mean that the control of the Black family would be handed over to his cousin Narcissa, her spawn and her Death Eater husband.

Barnes placed the knife inside his left army boot and replied, "No."

"Pity," Sirius muttered, eyeing the other man with caution.

He didn't know him very. All he knew came from his goddaughter's letters and, frankly, she was rather biased toward her Great-Uncle and he just couldn't trust her judgment. Especially when something told him that Barnes won't have any problem in killing him if he as much as blinked the wrong way.

"What're you doing here?" Sirius grumbled, making a motion for the other man to follow him. "Shouldn't you be at school with Harry?"

And no, he didn't sound bitter because he _wasn't_ bitter.

He wasn't!

Sirius didn't care that his goddaughter adored this man. He didn't care that Barnes not only lived with her but also had access to something that made it possible for him to stay at school with her while Sirius himself only spoke to her by letters.

Nope.

He _really_ wasn't bitter.

"_So?_" The Dog Animagus grumbled as they walked through the door leading into the basement kitchen, "What're you doing here?"

"What do you know about the _Appare Vestigium _spell?"Barnes asked, leaning against the wall while Sirius opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a bottle of Firewhiskey.

Sirius blinked, taken aback, "Er – You mean the tracking spell used by Magizoologists? I know a little…?" He hesitated, wondering what the other man wanted. "Why?"

Instead of explaining himself, Barnes asked, "And do you know how to cast it?"

The grey-eyed wizard frowned.

"Maybe."

Barnes arched his eyebrow, unimpressed. Pursuing his lips, Sirius huffed and poured a glass of Firewhiskey for himself. There was a moment of silence as Sirius tried to understand why Barnes was there. He knew that the other man was a Squib or at least a Hedge Wizard so he clearly needed Sirius' help to track someone or something down, he just didn't know if he should help the guy…

Sirius sighed.

Of course he was going to help him. Better to do so than to risk Harry being angry or disappointed on him for refusing.

"What can I do for you, Barnes?" He took a slip of his drink, enjoying the burning and continued, "And does Harry even know that you're here?"

Barnes stared for a moment, replying only one of his questions while ignoring the other, "Charis knows I'm here."

The grey-eyed man tried to keep the surprise out of his face. He had only now noticed that Barnes actually pronounced Harry's name the same way as Lily and Prongs had once done. It was painfully nostalgic…

He closed his eyes before turning to look at his uninvited guest once more. It took Sirius longer than he would have liked for him to notice that the assassin was holding a picture of a rather handsome man.

"Who's that?" Sirius asked despite thinking that he already knew the answer.

"Tony Stark," Barnes said. "I want you to track him down."

Against his best judgement, the Grimm Animagus snorted, "Is he a ex-lover of yours or something? Did you scare him so bad that he ran away?"

Ice-blue eyes narrowed dangerously and Sirius could hear the imaginary alarm bells echoing in the back if his mind. Unfortunately, he had no such thing as impulse control or self-preservation.

"There's no need to look like you're planning my death," The dog Animagus blurted out, suspiciously. Slowly, he backed away as much as the kitchen counter allowed him to.

Barnes looked at him, "If I was planning your death, you won't have known." There was a pause before the other man added, "Because you would have already been dead."

Silence.

"Give me the picture," Sirius said childishly, trying to not give into the urge of dropping his head submissively and getting the hell out of there just because Barnes was scarier than anyone else he had met in his miserable life (And yes, he was scarier than Professor McGonagall and his banshee of a mother).

Barnes did so, face expression still blank. There was no doubt that the guy would have been a Slytherin had he had gone to Hogwarts.

"Tell me more about this Tony Stark," Sirius muttered, sitting down. "Then we can see what we'll do."

The assassin nodded, not bothering to move from his place as he started explain who Tony Stark was and why he was kidnapped (Although he didn't explain why he wanted to save the guy and Sirius didn't ask). Looking down at the picture, the ex-convict wondered if he won't come to regret helping Harry's terrifying Great-Uncle.

Well, he would have to wait and see.

* * *

**C.P**

The exam results came out on the last day of term. Harry and Neville had passed every subject, both feeling relieved that they had actually been able to get a good grade in Potions. Fred and George had surprised everyone with their OWLs result and the Gryffindor House had, once again, won the House championship.

Their win meant that the end of term feast took place amid decorations of scarlet and gold, and that the Gryffindor table was the noisiest of the lot, as everybody celebrated.

The Slytherins kept sending them dirty looks. Well, aside from Malfoy who, for months now, had been acting strange; scanning his surroundings as if something was going to jump on him, running from any loud noise and staring at Harry with horror whenever the girl stepped close to him. The green-eyed girl had no idea of what his problem was but she didn't bother to think about it; Harry was sure that he would be back to his annoying ways when school started once more in September.

The next day, it was time for them all to leave.

"I can't believe this!" Hermione's screech made several students stop whatever they were doing to look at her, including Harry, Neville and the twins.

Ron groaned, "Hermione –"

"Why I'm only Third?!" The bushy haired witch was furious, "Why?!"

George whistled, "Wow, she finally saw the rankings."

"Took her long enough," Fred muttered. "I have been waiting for her tantrum since yesterday."

Harry giggled behind her hand, leaning against her invisible Great-Uncle as the train finally pulled into the station. The ice-blue eyed man placed his arm around her shoulders, chest vibrating as he chuckled.

"Why's _Harry_ second?!" Said girl's smile dropped at the amount of disbelief present in Hermione's voice.

She was smart and very good with the practical side of magic so it wasn't all that difficult to believe that she could be second… Right?

James' muscles tensed while the twins and Neville glared at the bushy haired witch until Ron noticed and pushed her toward the train, shushing her as she kept ranting. The girl seriously wasn't used to being second or third best in anything.

"Ignore her, Harry," Neville said, now glaring at the train as if he could see Hermione inside it.

The twins nodded, "Yeah, she's just jealous."

Before Harry could thank them, James spoke, "Charis."

Still feeling a little down, the girl looked up slowly to find that her Great-Uncle's face was visible as he stared down at her. Her heart skip a beat as he smiled warmly.

"I'm proud of you, doll." He said, "Congratulations."

Not being able to stop herself, Harry blushed and smiled widely.

"Thank you, Uncle James!"

Later, as the Hogwarts Express pulled out of the station, James gave Harry some surprising news that made her blink.

"Your godfather will be staying with us for a while." He said, looking rather unhappy at the thought.

Harry stared, surprised, "What?" Green-eyes blinked a few times, "Why?"

Not that she didn't want her godfather to stay at their house, she had been trying to convince him to visit ever since he got out of the hospital. But Sirius had refused, saying that he was happy in his house and that she didn't need to worry about him.

The small witch couldn't understand why he would change his mind.

"He'll be helping me with my project," James said.

That was all explanation she needed.

Harry nodded, changing the subject and turning to talk with the boys who were discussing their grades. Leaning against her Great-Uncle's side, the green-eyed witch couldn't help but wonder what kind of man Tony Stark was.

She only hoped that he was worthy all the trouble James was and would be going through for him.

**Hello! As you may have noticed, I'll be changing the POV sometimes although, like I said before, this story will be mostly from Harry's POV.**

**Next chapter will be having more Tony and the beginning of the next "book", which will cover Iron Man 1 and Forth Year. Anyway… Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to: **

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM. **

**-Cissnei.**

**TIMELINE!**

**May 16, 2009 – **_James leaves breakfast abruptly after seeing an article about Tony Stark _**(**Saturday**)**

**May 20, 2009 –** _Tony Stark is kidnapped._

**May 22, 2009 –** _Harry learns about Tony Stark's kidnapping _**(**Friday**)**

_*****__Harry talks to James about Tony Stark_

**May 30, 2009 –**_ Lupin leaves the castle after it's revealed that he's a werewolf _**(**Saturday**)**

_*****__ Harry finds a spell to help James find Tony Stark_

**June 7, 2009 – **_Students are given their Exam Schedule_

**June 8, 2009 –** _End of the Year Exams Starts _**(**Monday**)**

_*****__James talks to Sirius about the spell Harry's found_

**June 19, 2009 –** _Exams' grades come out end of the Year Feast_

**June 20, 2009 –** _Hogwarts Express back to London._

**CURIOSITY TIME!**

**Avensegium: **_Pronounced as _ah-ven-SEH-gwim_, this charms turns a target object into a tracking device (Mostly tacking form of a orange feather)._

**BONUS! #1**

**EXAMS SCHEDULE**

**Student Name: **_Charis Aster Potter_

**House: **_Gryffindor_

**Year: **Third

**Monday**

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 12:00 PM: **_Transfiguration_

**12:00 PM – 13:30 PM: **_Lunch_

**13:30 PM – 16:00 PM: **_Charms_

**16:15 PM – 18:45 PM: **_Ancient Runes_

**Tuesday**

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 12:00 PM: **_Care of Magical Creatures_

**12:00 PM – 13:30 PM: **_Lunch_

**13:30 PM – 16:00 PM: **_Potions_

**12:00 AM – 02:00 AM: **_Astronomy_

**Wednesday**

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 12:00 PM: **_History_

**12:00 PM – 13:30 PM: **_Lunch_

**13:30 PM – 16:00 PM: **_Herbology_

**16:15 PM – 18:45 PM: **_Arithmancy_

**Thursday**

**07:30 AM – 09:00 AM: **_Breakfast_

**09:00 AM – 12:00 PM: **_Defense Against the Dark Arts_

**12:00 PM – 13:30 PM: **_Lunch_

**BONUS! #2**

**HOGWARTS THIRD YEAR GENERAL RANKINGS (TOP 10)**

**1st – **_Susan Bones_** (**Hufflepuff**)**

**2nd – **_Charis Potter_** (**Gryffindor**)**

**3rd – **_Hermione Granger_** (**Gryffindor**)**

**4th – **_Blaise Zabini_** (**Slytherin**)**

**5th – **_Anthony Goldstein_** (**Ravenclaw**)**

**6th – **_Draco Malfoy_** (**Slytherin**)**

**7th – **_Neville Longbottom_** (**Gryffindor**)**

**8th – **_Terry Boot_** (**Ravenclaw**)**

**9th – **_Su Li_** (**Ravenclaw**)**

**10th – **_Daphne Greengrass_** (**Slytherin**)**

**BONUS! #3**

**THE QUARTET GRADES**

**Fred's OWLs:**

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY**

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**

**Pass Grades: **

Outstanding** (**O**) **

Exceeds Expectations** (**E**) **

Acceptable** (**A**)**

**Fail Grades:**

Poor** (**P**) **

Dreadful** (**D**) **

Troll** (**T**) **

Mr. Frederick Gideon Weasley has archived:

**Astronomy **_A_

**Care of Magical Creatures **_E_

**Charms **_E_

**Defense Against the Dark Arts **_E_

**Arithmancy **_O_

**Herbology **_E_

**History of Magic **_D_

**Potions **_O_

**Transfiguration **_E_

**George's OWLs:**

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY**

**Ordinary Wizarding Level Results**

**Pass Grades: **

Outstanding** (**O**) **

Exceeds Expectations** (**E**) **

Acceptable** (**A**)**

**Fail Grades:**

Poor** (**P**) **

Dreadful** (**D**) **

Troll** (**T**) **

Mr. George Fabian Weasley has achieved:

**Astronomy **_A_

**Care of Magical Creatures **_E_

**Charms **_O_

**Defense Against the Dark Arts **_E_

**Ancient Runes **_O_

**Herbology **_E_

**History of Magic **_D_

**Potions **_E_

**Transfiguration **_E_

**Harry's Grades:**

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY**

**End of the Year Exams Results**

**(**Third Year**)**

**Pass Grades: **

Outstanding** (**O**) **

Exceeds Expectations** (**E**) **

Acceptable** (**A**)**

**Fail Grades:**

Poor** (**P**) **

Dreadful** (**D**) **

Troll** (**T**) **

Miss Charis Aster Potter has achieved:

**Astronomy **_E_

**Care of Magical Creatures **_O_

**Charms **_O_

**Defense Against the Dark Arts **_O_

**Ancient Runes **_O_

**Arithmancy **_E_

**Herbology **_E_

**History of Magic **_A_

**Potions **_A_

**Transfiguration **_E_

**Status: **_APPROVED_

**Neville's Grades:**

**HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZADRY**

**End of the Year Exams Results**

**(**Third Year**)**

**Pass Grades: **

Outstanding** (**O**) **

Exceeds Expectations** (**E**) **

Acceptable** (**A**)**

**Fail Grades:**

Poor** (**P**) **

Dreadful** (**D**) **

Troll** (**T**) **

Mr. Neville Franklin Longbottom has achieved:

**Astronomy **_O_

**Care of Magical Creatures **_E_

**Charms **_O_

**Defense Against the Dark Arts **_E_

**Ancient Runes **_E_

**Herbology **_O_

**History of Magic **_O_

**Potions **_A_

**Transfiguration **_A_

**Status: **_APPROVED_


	16. Chapter 16

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry. _

**Just a warning:** _FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Age Difference, Messed Time Line, More in the Future _

**Just so you know (Name):** _FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from an Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is an Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits. _

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 16. To Rescue a Man of Iron**

**T.S**

Standing straight, Tony stared at the suit if armor before him, taking into every rustic detail. It was one big monstrosity without any style but he was rather proud of himself. Not many could say that they had created such thing in a cave in the middle of the desert and without all the necessary materials and tools.

Stepping inside the metal framework, which was suspended upright as Yinsen (His fellow prisoner and surgeon) put the suit together around him. By the end, he could barely breathe much less move. The suit was a hundred pounds of welded together iron and until the suit was properly connected to the miniaturized Arc Reactor in his chest (which was keeping the shrapnel out of his heart instead of that ridiculous car battery), the genius knew that it won't move a single inch.

"Say it again," Yinsen commanded him, looking into his eyes.

"Forty five steps ahead." Tony recited as if he was a child before a very strict teacher, "Then sixteen steps left, that's from the door... Fork right, thirty three steps and turn right again."

Just as he finished speaking, the hatch on the door at the corner slid open loudly. There was shouting; nothing that he could understand though.

"Answer them." Tony whispered urgently. He hadn't reached this point only to fail, "Stall them."

"They're speaking Hungarian!" Yinsen hissed back, giving him a look, "I can't speak Hun –"

Tony interrupted him, "Give them something!"

The older man gave him another look but did so, turning toward the door and yelling something back. The way his face twisted, however, made it clear that it didn't work.

Thankfully, Tony had thought about something like this happening, so they were prepared. The moment the door opened, one of the wires of the improvised bomb tied to the door snapped and – If the screams of his kidnappers and the sounds ot made, then the explosion caused by that small bomb must have been impressive.

"How did it work?" Tony asked Yinsen as the other moved away from behind the suit, which he had been using as a shield.

His fellow prisoner looked dazed even as he continued working, quickly attaching all the leads to the Arc Reactor before finally attaching the arms to the torso section of the suit.

"Oh my goodness – It worked alright," he replied before looking up at Tony. "Let me finish this –"

The billionaire gave him a look.

"Finish the last powering sequence," The brown-eyed genius ordered. They weren't going anywhere without it.

"Ok,"Yinsen nodded, rushing toward the large laptop he had been using before he started to help Tony with the suit. "Alright! Tell me what to do!"

"F11!" Tony said, "Tell me when you see a progress bar. There has to be one! Talk to me, tell me when you see it!"

At the same time, Yinsen's longer fingers tapped the key quickly, staring at the screen with worry before saying, "I have it!"

Tony wished he could run a hand through his hair at the moment, exhaling as he said, "Press Ctrl + I! I, Enter! I, Enter!"

With trembling hands, Yinsen saw the progressing bar finally start to move in a very slow pace and announced, "Got it!"

"Come over here and button me up!" Tony ordered. He could hear the voice echoing down the corridor. They couldn't lose any more time.

"They're coming…" Yinsen said, stepping away from the laptop as he too heard the sounds of footsteps, yelling and guns being loaded. Straightening his back, he hissed, "We need more time!"

Tony immediately knew what was going through the other man's head, eyes widening, "Yinsen – We've got a plan. Stick to the plan!"

Ignoring him, the surgeon picked up a rifle on near the space the door had occupying previously and looked back at him, "I'm gonna go buy you some time."

"Yinsen!"

The older man stepped into the corridor, continuing to ignore his calls and started shooting when he saw a group of soldiers.

Tony gritted his teeth, knowing that the plan was ruins now. With difficulty, he craned his head to look at the laptop screen; it was still in 55%. It was in moments like this that he hated not being able to use his own technology.

He stared until the progress bar_ finally _reached the end of its loading cycle and his suit finally powered up. The lights around him went dim, flickering before they died completely and Tony flickered his fingers, narrowing his eyes.

Steppingdown from the harness, he pulled the faceplate down.

He was ready to fight.

* * *

**R.L**

It was dark and the chilly mist surrounding London seemed to get ticker as time passed, making it difficult to see as he jumped from the bus and onto the pavement. Shoving his free hand inside the pocket of his coat and scanned the deserted street before he started to walk.

Looking up, Remus Lupin wondered how long it would take before he was fired from his new job. Mr. Fortescue had always been kind to him but he doubted that even he would let Remus keep his job if one of his clients refused to be served by a werewolf.

With a sigh, he decided to think about it later, noticing that he had reached Charing Cross Road. Remus walked down the street, only upon stopping before the shadowy entrance to the Leaky Cauldron.

A stooping figure holding a lantern appeared through the door, looking up at him with surprised brown eyes.

"Ah," Tom, the Leaky Cauldron's landlord, said with a toothless smile, "look who we've here! Professor Lupin!"

The amber-eyed man tried to not wince, giving the other wizard a tense smile, "None of that, I'm no longer a teacher."

Tom gave him a look, waving his wand so the lantern started floating beside the door before making a motion with his hand for Remus to follow him inside the building.

"Nonsense!" Tom said and smiled once more, "My niece Hannah always spoke a great deal about you and how sad she was to see you go. So, in my mind, you definitely deserve the title."

Remus' smiled a little. Despite the problems he had with Severus and the way his honorary goddaughter avoided him like the plague (And he tried to ignored how much it hurt – how her caution and distrust felt like someone was trying to his heart from his chest), he had enjoyed his time teaching at Hogwarts. His students had certainly been dedicated and attentive than he and his old year mates had been at their ages.

The scarred wizard was pulled away from his thoughts as Tom continued to talk, "Are you looking for Mr. Black?"

"What?" He whispered.

The landlord either ignored or didn't notice how weak his voice was as his eyes widened at the mention of Sirius.

Ever since he had read about his old friend's trial, he had been trying to contact him. No matter what he tried though, Sirius ignored him or sent notes warning him to stay away from him in a not so polite way… Not that Remus could blame him.

He just… He just wanted a chance to talk to his only living friend, maybe explain why he had believed the worst in him as well ask him about Harry. Maybe, as her godfather, he knew how to get in contact with her?

"I think Mr. Black was going to the Portkey point near Gringotts…" Tom mused out loud, "I'm not sure."

_Portkey…? _Remus clenched his hands, handing his suitcase to Tom as well a bag of money as he asked the man to take care of it before running in direction if the entrance to Diagon Alley.

He needed to talk to Sirius before he left! This was his chance!

Starting to run the moment Diagon Alley revealed itself to him, Remus scanned every shop, every corner he could see in search of the last male Balck. Thankfully, it didn't take long before he noticed a familiar man walking into Knockturn Alley.

"Wait!" He yelled, tripping as he made a sharp turn, "Sirius, wait!"

Sirius didn't stop, merely throwing a look over his shoulder.

"Sirius!"

Pinching the bridge of his nose, the other wizard turned around with a scowl on his face, "What?"

"I – We need to talk!" Remus gasped, stopping a few steps away from him.

Grey eyes rolled with exasperation as the Dog Animagus waved a dismissively hand, "I don't have time for this. Just leave Remus, we can talk later."

Remus snarled, starting to feel angry. Why was he acting like this?! What had happened to his old friend? The old Sirius would have hesitated, he would have given him a chance. Had Azkaban changed him that much.

"I won't leave until we talk," the werewolf said, amber eyes locked with grey.

There was a moment of silence as the other man shook his head.

"You should have listened to me," Sirius warned him with unblinking eyes.

The scarred wizard hesitated. The last time he had seen that look on Sirius' face, it was during the war. It was almost surreal.

He opened his mouth to ask when he noticed a tall dark figure, taller than either him and Sirius, stepping from the shadows

Remus didn't have time to react much less blink as the figure moved and gloved fingers warped around his throat _painfully_, squeezing as he was jerked forward and then thrown against a brick wall with enough strength to break it. Hadn't he been a werewolf, even if a weaker one, he doubted that he would have gotten more than black spots before his eyes and back pain. No, Remus had no doubt that he would have died.

Gasping for air, he found cold, _glacial _ice-blue eyes staring at him with a look that had only seen in Death Eaters before. It was a look that said that this man wasn't afraid of killing him and that he won't feel a single drop of regret in doing so.

Wh – Who was this man?

"You're lucky Lily once called you a friend," Remus' eyes widened, half because of Lily's name and half because of the strange accent the man had; as if his voice couldn't decided between a Brooklyn accent or a Russian one. "Otherwise, I would have killed you long ago."

Before Remus could even process his words, the man threw him on the floor. The werewolf gasped, coughing as he massaged his throat.

Sirius threw him a look before looking down at his golden pocket watch, "Barnes."

The ice-blue eyed man, Barnes, nodded and took out a red ribbon out of the pocket of his aviator jacket, holding onto one end while Sirius held onto the other. Although a little disoriented and in pain, Remus was still alert enough to understand that they were standing in a Portkey point and that those two were ready to leave.

With a raspy _Wait!_, Remus proved that once a Gryffindor always a Gryffindor as he jumped forward just the Portkey had gone active and grabbed Sirius' ankle, much to the long-haired wizard surprise.

Shutting his eyes, the werewolf gritted his teeth as he felt his body leave the group as if jerked back by a hook. All he could hear was the howl of wind as tightened his hold of Sirius' ankle, hoping for it to end soon. He hated Portkeys, especially when he hadn't been ready for them.

After what seemed to an eternity later, his face slammed into a blanket of sand, which seemed to have made its way inside his mouth, eyes, nostrils and ears.

"What the fuck, Remus?!" He heard the muffled snarl. Sirius yanked him from the sand, holding the collar of his coat as he yelled into his face, "Are you trying to kill us, you bloody imbecile?!"

Remus shook his head much like a dog, getting rid of the excess of sand as he opened eyes slightly to look at the other man, "We need to talk and I won't let you go anywhere alone with _him_."

He didn't need to specify, both of them knew who he was talking about.

"For Merlin sake," Annoyed, Sirius let him go, throwing his hands up. "I'm not protecting you from Barnes, Remus. I already have enough problems trying to keep him planning my death at every opportunity."

The amber-eyed was ready to answer but all that came out of his mouth was a painfully scream as a black army boot stepped over his wand hand. Raising his head, he found Barnes blocking the sun and staring down at him as if he was less than dirty in his eyes.

"Do you have a death wish?" Remus opened hos mouth to speak only to scream again as Barnes crushed his hand a little harder, "Doesn't matter. Stay out of my way, Lupin, that'll be your only warning. Lily's friend or not, I've no patience for cowards."

With that, he scanned their surroundings, taking into the rest of what looked to be muggle cars and weapons. The whole place looked like a war zone or what he imagined how one would look like when involving Muggles. Remus hissed as Barnes moved away from him, taking out his wand to heal his hand while trying to understand the ice-blue eyed man's confusing words.

"It looks like we're in the right place." Sirius said, rolling up the sleeves of his white dress shirt.

"Black," Barnes' voice held some kind of hidden warning.

Making a face, Sirius summoned his wand with a wave of his hands. With a wave, Sirius cast what looked like cooling and protection charms around himself and Barnes. After that, the Dog Animagus took a deep breath.

"_Appare –_" The last male Black started, "_– Vestigium._"

From Sirius' wand, golden sand materialized surrounding them. Remus closed his eyes to protect them from the sand until he noticed that it didn't bother him. Opening his eyes once more, he saw Barnes kneeling not too far from him, touching what looked like footprints.

The moment he touched it, the image of masked men dragging a bleeding and unconscious man appeared in the place of the footprints. Barnes stood up to follow the men until they stopped, throwing the unconscious man in what the werewolf guessed to be a car (Although that was only a guess). The two men nodded at each other and then disappeared after entering the car.

"We can't track machines, only living beings," Sirius said, frowning.

Barnes wasn't bothered as he started walking, "Doesn't matter. We follow this direction until we get signs of life once more."

The last male Black gave him a look, grumbling under his breath. Making a motion with his hand toward Remus, he started following Barnes.

"You either come with us or you can _Apparate _back to Britain." Sirius told him, looking over his shoulder. "If you can, that's it."

Remus stood up with difficult, muttering a cooling charm when the scalding sun started to bother him. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he started following the duo.

"Where're we?!" The scarred wizard screamed.

He had wanted to ask _where they were going _but he didn't think they would give him a answer so settled down for the second best question.

Sirius turned around, walking backwards as he opened his arms wide, "Welcome to Afghanistan, Moony!"

Remus flinched back, stopping to stare.

Afghanistan…?

What were they doing in _Afghanistan_?!

Gulping, he shook his head and kept walking. It just won't do to think about it. He was here now and there was no going back. He only hoped that he would survive this…

* * *

They had been walking for four hours when reached the limit of hos patience, getting tired of the heavy silence between them and opened his mouth to speak.

"Who's he?" Remus asked, amber eyes flickering from Sirius to Barnes and back again.

His old friend didn't reply, twirling his wand through his fingers and sending him a look by the corner of his eyes. There was a moment of silence and before Remus could repeat his question, this time more demanding and exasperated, Sirius spoke.

"James Barnes," he said, "Harry's Great-Uncle."

Remus tripped on nothing, looking at Sirius with disbelief.

"Harry doesn't have a Great-Uncle!" He said, irritation evident in his voice as he narrowed his eyes, "The only Uncle she has is Vernon Dursley."

He never noticed when Barnes stopped, fingers twitching at the name. Slowly, the dangerous ice-blue eyed man turned to look at him, lips pressing in a thin lin.

Sirius halted, tilting his head in a way that reminded Remus of his Animagus form, his expression carefully blank, "And how would you know that…?" He spoke slowly, his eyes resembling more steel than silver under the sunlight.

Had he noticed the way the other two men were looking at him, Remus would have hesitated before replying. Instead, he stood tall as he spoke.

"Professor Dumbledore told me when I asked him about Harry after –" The werewolf gulped, licking his dry lips, "– After Lily and Prongs died and you were sent to Azkaban."

"Let me see if I understand it properly," Sirius smiled tensely. "You knew that Harry was sent to live with _Petunia _and her husband, and you did _nothing_."

Remus looked into his eyes, frowning, "She needed to stay with them and there was nothing that I could do." He snapped, "The blood wards kept her safe and Professor Dumbledore thought that it would be better if Harry was raised away from the Wizarding World."

There was a moment of silence as Sirius processed his words. The Dog Aninagus had looked interested when the _blood wards _were mentioned, but he didn't ask about it. Instead, he seemed to be more focused on something else.

"And you didn't think, _for even a second_, to approach her…" Sirius narrowed his eyes, "To see how she was doing?"

"She was fine," Remus said, not understanding the problem. "Professor Dumbledore had someone watching over her."

Sirius sneered while Barnes' hands moved to his side. Before anything could be said or done, Barnes' head snapped up as he stared up at something. Both Sirius and Remus turned their attentions toward him, following his line of sight.

"Is that a meteor?" Sirius asked in disbelief, blinking at the line of smoke in the sky.

Barnes started running.

Grey eyes blinked in surprise, "Hey! Wait for me, Barnes!"

Remus frowned but started following the other two, not wanting to be left behind. He still had questions to be answered.

He didn't know how long they kept running; minutes, maybe even hours. It was difficult to know for certain. Shaking his head, he blinked upon noticing that Sirius and Barnes had stopped on what could only be called a hill.

"Bloody hell," Sirius muttered. "What the fuck happened here?"

Remus merely stared at the pieces of metal scattered bellow them, looking as though something had exploded.

Jumping, Barnes slid down the hill until he jumped down one of the pieces of metal, pulling it from the sand. He looked at it for a while before scanning their surroundings, walking toward something.

Sirius slid down as well, although with much less grace, and pulled out his hand, casting a quick _Reparo_. The pieces shook for a second then started to move, repairing themselves until they were staring at some kind of armor. The piece Barnes had been holding, which had joined the others, showed itself to be a mask of sorts.

"A robot…?" Sirius muttered.

"No," Barnes said, refusing to elaborate. "We'll take it with us."

Remus scowled at him but Sirius merely rolled his eyes, waving his wand and shrinking the armor. After that, he placed the miniaturized and burned down armor inside the pocket of his black dress pant, turning to look at Barnes.

"Anything else, your Assassiness?" The last male Black asked, bowing exaggeratedly.

Barnes arched an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"That doesn't exist," Remus found himself saying. "Stop trying to murder English, Sirius."

"Sorry," Sirius said mockingly, "but I don't know any English."

The brown haired werewolf opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Barnes.

"Black," the ice-blue eyed man's voice held a hint of irritation and Remus found himself clamping his mouth shut immediately.

Sirius understood whatever was left unsaid and muttered _Appare Vestigium _under his breath, pointing his wand to the spot beside Barnes. The golden sand materialized and Barnes touched something, staring as a hurt and disoriented looking man appeared, walking away from the with difficult. It took Remus longer than he would have liked to recognize the man as the one that was being dragged away the last time Sirius used that spell.

Barnes' lips twitched. It wasn't enough to be called a smile, not even to resemble one, but it was enough to show that he was pleased about something.

"Would you look at that," Sirius whistled. "He got himself out – Smart Muggle."

"He _is _a Stark," Barnes said, following after the hologram-like image.

Not for the first time that day, he started following the other two. They ignored his questions, staying in silence. Remus clenched and unclenched his fists, wanting to do nothing more than scream and demand that Sirius speak to him.

Why was he ignoring him? Who was the man they were tracking down? Who was James Barnes and why did Sirius think that the man was related to Harry?!

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

Remus was usually more calm and collected but the full moon had happened not too long ago and his moods were still a bit unstable. It was rather difficult to control his emotions properly.

"Is he alive?" He heard Sirius ask, opening his eyes to see the other two man crouching next to the real life version of the man they had been tracking.

He was lying with his back against the sand, eyes fluttering slightly although he was clearly dehydrated and hurt, the skin of his face and arms burned because of the sun. Amber eyes scanned the man, stopping when he saw something in his chest.

"What the hell is that?" Sirius asked, moving his hand to pock the glowing thing on the man's chest but Barnes hit his hand.

"Don't touch it," Barnes said coldly, "you don't know what it's for."

"It isn't a… what was the word… a bomb, right?" Sirius hesitated, taking a step back while Barnes took the man's arm and placed it around his shoulder, holding him still.

"I doubt it," Barnes replied as the Dog Animagus cast a cooling and a stasis charm on the man.

Sirius turned to look at Remus, "Come on." He said, pulling a scarf from the pocket of his pants, "We're leaving."

"What about the thing in his chest?" Remus asked, "Technology doesn't –"

"_Doesn't work around magic_," Sirius recited, rolling his eyes. "It's small enough to not break. Are you leaving with us or not?"

Remus licked his lips, grabbing the scarf, deciding that it was better to not argue. Sirius seemed to know something that he didn't. Besides, he wanted to leave this desert – Maybe then he and Sirius would finally have the chance of talking. That's it, if his old friend stopped ignoring him like a child.

Closing his eyes, Remus felt the familiar tug of a Portkey.

**This chapter was a little short but since this is just the beginning of a new year and arc, I'm rather happy with it. It's more than I thought it would be, especially after I decided to rewrite it. Next chapter Tony will be waking up inside a certain cozy, rose-pink house!**

**Anyway… Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to: **

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM. **

**-Cissnei.**

**TIMELINE!**

**June 20, 2009 –** _Hogwarts Express back to London._

**July 19, 2009 – **_Tony Stark finds his way out._

_*****__James and Sirius _**(**Plus the uninvited Lupin**) **_leave by Portkey to rescue Tony Stark_


	17. Chapter 17

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry. _

**Just a warning:** _FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Age Difference, Messed Time Line, More in the Future _

**Just so you know (Name):** _FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from an Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is an Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits. _

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 17. To Break the Ice**

**T.S**

"Look out!"

Immediately, Tony moved out of the way. It wasn't easy, especially not with how heavy his armor was, but the RPG launcher's grenade flew past his head and into the tunnel behind him. Everything shook, debris flying around as the grenade exploded.

Whiskey-brown eyes flickered toward the fallen old man who had just saved his life again, sighing in relief upon noticing that he was still breathing. Maybe – _hopefully _–, he would be able to return the favor and get Yinsen out of there. Tony had no idea of what they would do after that, but he could think about it later.

Although distracted with his own thoughts, Tony didn't stop. He hit a small button on the inside of his wrist guard to release the small missile to his forearm. Without blinking, he watched as the missile whistled and flew toward Raza, the Big Boss and the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to use a RPG launcher on such closed space.

The missile missed the terrorist by about one or two feet, but the explosion it caused was strong enough to send Raza flying, the left aide of his face completely shredded.

For a moment, Tony thought of checking to see if the other man wasn't alive but decided against it.

He wasn't important – Yinsen was the priority right now.

Tony didn't like the thought of Raza being alive and possibly coming back for him later but Yinsen was wounded and the engineer wanted to help his fellow prisoner and friend,

Flipping his facemask up, he approached Yinsen.

Unsure of what to do without hurting the older man more, Tony spoke, "Come on." He urged Yinsen, trying to come up with a way to get both of them out there, "We gotta go. Move with me. C'mon, we got a plan, we need to stick to it."

Yinsen merely stared at him with unfocused eyes and broken glasses. His breath caught in his throat at the sight, feeling sick as he thought that maybe this was the end. No matter how much he tried, Tony without come up with a way to move Yinsen and fight whoever was coming for them at the same time…

He –

"This was always the plan, Stark," Yinsen said hoarsely, pulling Tony out of his thoughts and looking at him as if he knew exactly what the brown-eyed genius was thinking.

Tony shook his head, ignoring the way his heart dropped at those words, "Come on, you're going to go see your family again."

Yinsen couldn't possibly be giving up now. Tony refused to believe that he would do such thing, especially not with how much the spectacled man seemed to live them. All he had been able to talk about during their time together in captive was his family and how he would join them after he helped Tony escape…

_Oh_, Tomy blinked as something clicked in his mind. It took his longer than necessary but he finally understood that even if he had given up, Yinsen was still going to join his family because –

"My family is dead." Yinsen smiled serenely, "I'm going to see them now, Stark." His eyes fluttered a little as he whispered, "It's okay… I want this…"

Tony racked his brain for something – anything – smart to say. At the end, he settled with a honest and weak, "Thank you for saving my life."

Yinsen smiled, it was kind though the brown-haired billionaire noticed the hint of steel as he spoke, "Don't waste it."

Whiskey-brown eyes burned as he let out a shaky breath as the other man's eyes closed slowly and his chest stopped moving.

Yinsen was dead.

Tony didn't know how to feel at that moment aside from grieve, shame and rage. Grieve for someone who he had the pleasure to call a friend even if only for a few months, shame that it was a Stark Industries weapon that took his and others' lives and rage – All coming rage toward those who were using his, _his _weapons to cause unnecessary death and destruction.

Standing straight, Tony pulled the faceplate down. He walked past the unconscious Raza and through the gaping hole his missile from early had created.

As billionaire stopped outside, he could hear familiar sound of guns being loaded.

It didn't take long before the terrorists surrounding him in a semi-circle started shooting at him once more, sparks flying as the bullets made contact with his armor. Each time a bullet collided with his armor, the metal shook and the sound echoed in rhythm with his pounding heart.

There was a moment of tense silence as the bullets finally stopped and, within his mask, Tony grinned coldly.

"My turn."

He raised his arms, firing his flamethrowers. He aimed the flames at everything that they could possibly reach: the the fuel drums conveniently placed next to vehicles, the sandbags filled with the ammo feeds leading into the machinegun emplacements and even the soldiers that tried to approaching him.

Tony stepped forward, feeling no small amount of satisfaction as the remaining soldiers backed away quickly, trying to reload their toy weapons (And, really, compared to his armor, those guns were nothing but toys). He ignored them all, having another target in mind.

His eyes stung as they landed on the boxes towering around him. He stared at the Stark Industries logo emblazed on the weapons crates for what seemed to be hours, ears ringing and heart pounding against his chest as he raised his armored arm.

Immediately, he fired his flamethrowers once more, feeling something akin to satisfaction fill him as, one by one, the boxes exploded in flames.

That, he decided, was just the beginning.

First those weapons _then_ he would deal with all the other. The engineer doubted that that terrorist group in particular was the only one that had gotten their hands in his weapons. There had to be more and he would find out.

The terrorists decided to move as far as they could from him, finding somewhere to hide before they shooting again. The toy guns did nothing to his armor and even they noticed it. One of the soldiers, a man who Tony could swear he had seen before but couldn't recognize, made his way to a very old mounted gun. Tony stared as the man to aimed that monstrosity at him

He opened fire, being followed by the others, and Tony gritted his teeth. The brown-haired man knew that the suit won't be able to take much more; pieces were already beginning to rattle loose.

He blinked, knowing that the inevitable destruction of his suit of armor wasn't the only problem. All the heat was killing him, his gloves were melting, his chest was hurting, he could barely breathe, his head was pounding and – Yeah, he was filled with problems at the moment. One worse than the other.

Noticing that his captors were getting closer, protecting themselves from the flames by using some of the larger weapon crates or whatever weapon remain they could get their hands on, Tony decided that maybe it was time to leave.

With that in mind, he fired one last flame at the weapon crates, ignored the curses and screams aimed at him, then opened a metal flap on the suit's right arm. Flipping the switch inside, he heard a screeching jet engine-like whir filling the whole place. The remaining soldiers covered their ears, taking cover.

He hadn't imagined that he would have need for the boot jets, but never let it be said that Tony Stark didn't have a counterplan for every single one of his plans. Granted it had been Yinsen's idea in case of the suit didn't work properly and the billionaire needed to make a quick exit, _but still_!

_Would you look at that_, Tony thought as he blasted off, soaring into the sky like a rocket, _you saved my life again._

Sweating, battered, and bruised, Tony concentrated on flying, shooting through the sky much like a cannonball. The desert streaked past below him, the scenery becoming nothing more than a blur of motion and speed.

The billionaire thought that he saw something at the distance, like little black points moving in the desert. For a moment, he wondered if it hadn't been a hallucination caused by all the heat. After that he wondered in panic if those terrorist were chasing him.

Before he had the opportunity to truly think about it, however, his jet boots gave out.

Tony yelled in horror as he tried desperately to control his flight to no vain, falling headfirst toward a sand-dune. Spinning and rolling until he skidded to a halt, Tony gasped for air. His eyes fluttered, trying to get used to the sun after months in a dark cave, before scanning his surroundings.

Pieces of his suit were surrounding, some of them he couldn't even recognize because of how torn they were. Whatever remained of the suit was still attached to him, Tony

The suit was torn up; there were pieces of the armor everywhere he looked although he was attached to whatever remained of it. Laying back against the sand dune, Tony laughed like he hadn't been able to do since before he was kidnapped.

_I'm free! _The genius screamed in his mind, ignoring the tears pouring down from his eyes.

He had every right to cry.

He was free – Tony still needed to find a way out of this accursed desert but the point was that _he was free_!

His laugher died out and he closed his eyes, wishing that Yinsen had been there to savor this moment with him. With a sigh, Tony opened his eyes and looked down at his chest plate.

The Arc Reactor glowed faintly.

_I need to cut the power before I use too much energy and my heart stops_, Tony thought absentmindedly, doing just that. Gritting his teeth, Tony tore the power to the suit and slowly, painfully, dragged himself out of the shredded armor. Looking over his shoulders, eyes scanning the trail of smoke his brief flight had left behind.

Although hurt and slightly disoriented, Tony was still sane enough to calculate the distance between him and the terrorists' camp. And, if he wasn't wrong, he only had an hour or two until the surviving terrorists came for him – And there was no doubt that they won't be trying to recapture him.

There was also no doubt that if they caught him, Tony won't live to see another cave.

Taking a deep breath, Tony stood up and started hiking. He would have preferred to wait until night before he had to find his way through the desert but the whiskey-eyed scientist didn't have time to waste.

As crossed the desert, Tony wrapped his jacket around his head to keep the blazing sun from frying his brain. He never stopped, walking until black spots started to appear before his eyes and his body gave out, not being able to move even if another inch.

His fingers twitched, gripping a handful of sand with whatever strength he still had. Tony wished he could scream and curse – Had everything been for nothing? Had _Yinsen's death_ been for nothing?

"Is he alive?" He heard someone ask.

_Great_, Tony thought sarcastically.

He had either been found by the terrorists already or he was hallucinating.

His eyes fluttered as he tried to pry them open, hoping to prove to himself that _no_, he hadn't been found by his captors and that _yes_, he was hallucinating. Hallucinations were better than being captured once more.

Unfortunately, no matter how hard he tried, Tony couldn't open his eyes.

He was far too tired.

"What the hell is that?" The voice asked once more, this time a little more freaked out.

_Uh_, Tony decided, feeling his body shut down little by little, _I'm hallucinating. Pretty sure the voice is British…_

"Don't touch it," Another voice said coldly, this one having a rather odd mix of accents, "you don't know what it's for."

Tony felt someone _grab_ his arm and placed them around broad shoulders. It was nice albeit uncomfortable. Actually, it reminded him of the way Rhodey would carry him after he drank too much. He had missed the conta – His thought process came to a halt as a impossible possibility hit him.

Falling unconscious, there was only one question echoing in his mind: Had someone finally come to rescue him?

* * *

Waking up in a well lit and nicely decorated room certainly wasn't what he was expecting after passing out in the middle of nowhere in the desert of Afghanistan.

Not that he was complaining.

He could remember the voices just as vividly as he could remember someone grabbing him before he passed out, and it wasn't difficult for Tony to come to the conclusion that someone had _finally _come to his rescue.

But it was rather confusing to wake up in what looked to be a guest room instead of a bland and white hospital room. Sighing and knowing that the brown-eyed genius wasn't going to get a answer for that question, at least not until his saviors decided to show up, Tony took a moment to think about everything that had happened in the last three months or so, pursuing his lips.

Ever since he could remember, Tony had always been carefully with his things. Privacy was something that had been out of his reach from the moment he was born, but _his_ _technology_? _His_ _weapons_? None of that should have been in the hands of terrorists – Terrorists that were far too knowledgeable for his liking.

Unfortunately, there was only one way to explain this whole situation: Someone close to him had not only been selling _his_ blueprints in the black market but had also sold _him_ out for profit.

And that, _all of that_, was unacceptable.

Well, there was no need to worry about it tight now, not really. Worrying had never helped him with anything and Tony knew that if he wanted to make things right, then he needed to stay calm and start planning. Before that, however, he needed to find out where exactly he was.

He must have said his thoughts out loud because someone actually replied, "Notting Hill, London."

Tony's head snapped to his right so quickly that it was a wonder how he didn't suffer from whiplash.

Sitting in a chaise with large, ancient looking book in her lap was a small girl with the greenest emerald-green eyes that he had ever seen. Her raven-black hair was tied up in a messy bun and she was wearing white sleeves shirt underneath a denim overall. In her hands, he noticed a odd colorful little box filled with bean like candy.

He didn't know why, but there was something rather familiar about this girl. It felt like he had seen her before but no matter how much he tried, Tony couldn't remember _where_ or at least _who _she resembled.

"We were worried about you," the British girl said, voice gaining a hint of Scottish accent as she tried to pry the box open. He blinked, pulling himself out of his thoughts, "Uncle James brought you here after he found you laying on a sand dune –"

He leaned back slightly, wondering what her Uncle was doing in the middle of the Afghan desert and if the he and his companion had known who he was when they found him. As impossible as it sounded, there were still people in this planet who didn't know what he looked like or at least took some time to understand that he wasn't just Tony Stark lookalike.

The girl kept talking, babbling without even stopping to breathe, "– He wanted to take you to the hospital but Sirius – my godfather that's it –, suggested that we call for a Heal – I mean, a doctor so they could come to take care of you here because our house is much more comfortable than a _boring hospital room that serves the same poison everyday and tries to pass it off as edible_ – Sirius' words, not mine."

Tony gave the kid a look, trying to understand her verbal diarrhea.

"I've been watching over you," she made a pause, smiling smugly as she finally managed to open the little box, before continuing, "while Uncle James is out. He didn't say anything but I know he was really anxious for you to wake up. Not that you heard that from me –" Her voice faded as she looked up, cheeks darkening with a soft shade of red as she smiled sheepishly, "Er, candy?"

_Uh_, Tony blinked, half stunned and half charmed, _what a cute kid._

Pepper would have loved her.

Wait, no – This wasn't the time. He needed to know exactly where he was in Notting Hill, who this girl's Uncle was and where Rhodney was. Why wasn't his best friend here? Hadn't they called him? Wasn't he looking for him? Had he decided that it wasn't worthy to waste any kind of resources on someone like hi –

"Who're _you _supposed to be?" Tony arched his eyebrow mockingly, trying to keep his brain away from any kind of pessimistic thought regarding his closest friend, "My nurse?"

Instead of answering his question or throwing some kind of remark back, the girl paused and looked at him with curiosity before saying, "I'm Charis. You can call me Harry though."

Tony tried to not flinch at the intensity of those green, _green_ eyes. Instead, he smiled as if she was one of the vultures and sharks that always followed him everywhere.

"Can I help you, _Charis_?" Tony asked, purposefully mispronouncing her name.

The girl ignored it. There was a pause as the billionaire did his best to not show any sign of discomfort as those green – _green_ – eyes stared at him. Suddenly, the raven-haired teen, and she couldn't be older than thirteen or fourteen, smiled and gave him a look filled with amusement.

Charis held out the colorful little box again, "Would you like one?"

He stared, not believing what he was seeing.

Was she serious? She couldn't be serious.

After a moment of stunned silence, Tony leaned back against the headboard of the far too comfortable bed and arched his eyebrow once more, thinking of a way to retain the control of this bizarre situation.

"Hadn't your mother taught you to not accept candy from strangers?" He asked, refusing to move, "Because mine did."

Not his father. Never his father. The only things Howard taught him was what he needed or not to do to be a successful businessman as well how to deal with and control the crowd and vultures that followed the name Stark.

"I won't know," Charis shrugged, eating a green bean with lime green spots. She scrunched her nose at the flavor and continued, "I don't remember my mother."

Tony licked his lips, feeling like an asshole. And it wasn't even the fun type of asshole. Oh, no – It was the worst kind of asshole; the kind that kicked puppies in their spare time and made fun of homeless veterans.

The engineer opened his mouth to speak before closing it. He didn't even know what he was going to say but he still felt like he should apologize somehow. If there was one thing that Tony had promised himself to never do, it was to mock and make fun of an motherless child. He knew how they felt.

Either ignoring or not noticing the expression on his face, Charis spoke, "Are you sure you don't want one?"

The brown-haired genius eyed the offered box, noticing that no bean inside it looked the same. Hesitantly, although he made sure to look like the picture of confidence, Tony made a grand motion toward it.

"What flavors are in there?" Tony asked, deciding that playing along would be the best apology he could give her.

Charis' lips twitched up, eyes lighting with mischief, "It's called _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans _for a reason. When they say _"Every Flavour"_, they mean it."

"That's impossible," he informed her.

With a challenging look, Charis shook the little box and pushed it closer to him. The billionaire stared before throwing caution out of the metaphorical window and grabbing one of the safer looking beans; white with light blue spots. If he didn't die from this, Rhodey and Pepper would surely kill him for accepting possibly poisoned candy.

Closing his eyes, he threw the bean in his mouth and started chewing. Immediately, whiskey-brown eyes widened.

"That… That's _vodka_," Tony blinked, wondering how such thing was possible. It was far too strong, far too real – There was nothing artificial about the taste of the candy.

What in the name of Tesla was this nonsense?!

Charis was munching on a bean of her own, beaming happily, "Marshmallow!"

Tony ignored her, taking another bean. He needed to be sure that he hadn't imagined it, that it wasn't his desire for a drink that had made it taste like that.

Spitting the candy out, his eyes widened with horror instead of surprise.

"What the fuck?" He started rubbing his tongue, trying to get the taste out of it, "_What the fuck?!_ It tastes like dirty socks!"

He refused to think about how he even knew what dirty socks tasted like. Tony liked to believe that the year of '89 hadn't happened.

Nope.

Not thinking about it. He had enough trauma to deal with. He didn't need to add more.

"Ouch," Charis gave him a sympathetic look, as if eating candies that taste exactly like dirty socks was normal, "I hate those. They're better than earwax though." There was a pause before she added as a afterthought, "Or vomit."

_That _– Tony blinked one, two, _three _times before throwing his arms forward and making grabby hands. His scientist side demanded that he learned exactly how those things worked.

"Give me another!" He ordered.

This whole thing was impossible. Candy shouldn't taste like that but no matter what flavor he picked up, it felt like he was actually eating the real thing – It was mind-blowing if not frustrating and _utterly_ _ridiculous_!

"In which laboratory this was made?" He demanded to know, not even noticing how relaxed he was while holding a half-eaten bean (Peppermint) and glaring at it with a petulant look on his face, "What kind of process was used?!"

Losing himself to all possibilities that those candies represented, he started to talk in terms that his companion couldn't possibly understand while trying to unsuccessfully break down the process of making the beans. Watching him with amusement, Charis rested her chin against the palm of her hands and smiled widely.

It was nice to know that _Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans _were still a good way to break the ice. Tapping her chin in thought, she wondered if they could be friends? Mr. Stark seemed like a fun and interesting guy…

"Argh!" The genius screamed, grabbing his throat as if he was chocking, "Earwax! Water! _WATER!_"

Charis giggled.

Fun and interesting indeed.

**This chapter was meant to be longer, **_**much **_**longer. But I decided to split it in two. I'll be posting the next chapter soon. Maybe today or tomorrow :)****.**

**Anyway… Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM. **

**-Cissnei. **

**TIMELINE!**

**June 20, 2009 – **_Hogwarts Express back to London. _

**July 19, 2009 – **_Tony Stark finds his way out._

*****_James and Sirius_** (**Plus the uninvited Lupin**) **leave by Portkey to rescue Tony Stark

**July 21, 2009 – **_Tony wakes up in Harry's and James' house._


	18. Chapter 18

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry. _

**Just a warning:** _FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Age Difference, Messed Time Line, More in the Future _

**Just so you know (Name):** _FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from an Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is an Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits. _

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 18. Statute? What Statute?**

It took only one hour for Tony to admit that he liked Charis. The kid brought him back to easier times, times when he and Rhodey could sit down and talk for hours; sharing stories, complaining about the idiots in their lives... He truly like her, she was a nice and genuine kid.

Nevertheless, as much as he liked her, Tony couldn't bring himself to relax completely. At least not until he learned the reason why her Uncle James had decided to look for him and how he had been successful when clearly others failed.

Tony pursued his lips, flipping the newspaper in his hands.

More than half of the articles about him, be it on newspapers or magazines seemed to have already declared him dead, doubting that his kidnappers would have kept him alive. Especially as no one seemed have called Pepper or Obadiah for ransom.

Speaking of Pepper – It looked like the red-haired woman and Rhodey had pulled a few strings and called a few favors to keep the search for him going; going so far as contacting a few international agencies to help.

It was nice, if not extremely relieving, to know that his friends still held hope in finding him alive… Although he was curious to know why no one seemed to know about his rescue. How had Charis' Uncle James brought him from Afghanistan to _London _without anyone recognizing him?

"Here!"

Tony blinked as a bowl of soup was placed in front of him, pulling the genius away from his thoughts. Raising his head, he stared at the emerald-eyed teen standing across him.

"You need to eat," Charis said, handing him a silver spoon.

His eyes flickered to the odd colored soup, "Uh – Can't I get a cheeseburger instead?"

Those green, _green _eyes narrowed dangerously as the small girl corrected herself, "You need to eat _proper _food." She huffed, "Besides, the doctor said that you need time before your stomach can handle something as heavy as a cheeseburger."

Tony sighed. He couldn't argue with that point. He was stubborn and annoying but he knew when he should or shouldn't keep his arguments at bay.

Besides, he hadn't eaten a home-cooked meal in years. So this was more than welcome.

_Hum_, Tony thought, pleased with the taste, _Butternut Squash Soup…_

His thoughts must have been written all over his face because Charis beamed with pride, turning around to grab a bowl for herself. The billionaire shook his head a little, wondering if everything she did had to be this cute. It was almost criminal.

"So," he said after a moment of silence, "when will your Uncle come back?"

Charis looked a little surprised by the question. She stared at him with thoughtful eyes before sighing, as if she knew exactly why he wanted to know that, and looking over her shoulder.

He followed her line of sight to see a clock. The funny thing was that the moment his whiskey-brown eyes landed on it, the clock seemed to _blurry _and _shift_, as if some kind of veil or mist over his eyes had been lifted, showing off words instead of numbers. He shook his head, rubbing his eyes before looking again.

_Must have been my imagination_, Tony thought, staring at the normal clock on the wall.

This conclusion, however, didn't stop the nagging feeling on the back of his mind that insisted that he wasn't seeing thing, that it hadn't been his imagination.

"He should be home soon," Charis said, turning to look at him.

Tony tore his eyes away from the clock and smiled charmingly at the kid.

"Great!" He said, "I want to talk to him."

Charis' face twisted slightly although he couldn't decipher her expression properly. It was like she was dreading to see what would happen when he was finally introduced to her mysterious Uncle.

"I'm sure you do," the small girl muttered, resuming to eat her soup.

Tony arched his eyebrow at this but she never elaborated. As much as he wanted he didn't pock her for answers; something told him that he would find out what was the problem soon enough.

Sighing, the man decided to change the subject. He couldn't look at that face for long. It was like he was staring at kicked puppy.

"Say kid, what do you do for fun around here?" Tony asked, finishing his soup.

Charis perked up, "Oh! Do you want to play a board game?"

A – A board game? The engineer gave her a look filled with amusement. Kids those days still played with those kind of things?

"Sure, why not?"

Half an hour and three board games later, Tony found himself staring at a staggering JENGA tower, fingers twitching as he tried to calculate which block could be taken off without making the whole tower come apart.

Charis, the cute little brat, was staring at him with a grin on her face, chanting under her breath.

"Fall, fall, fall, fall!"

Tony's eyebrow twitched but he refused to move. He was the adult there so he needed to keep his mind and ignore her childish taunts.

Taking a deep breath and straightening his back, the genius started pulling a block _slowly_. He could feel a bead of sweat dripping down his forehead and his muscles tense – He was going do it! He –

"Charis."

Both Tony and the aforementioned girl jumped at the voice, staring as the tower _fell apart_.

"_No!_" Tony roared.

Charis started laughing, clapping her hands and cheering like the annoyingly cute thirteen years troll she was, "I win! I win!"

"No! I reject!" Tony refused to accept it, shaking the block in his hand, "I demand another round!"

The raven-haired girl smirked, "Don't be a sore loser, Mr. Stark!"

"Why you –"

Someone cleared their throat. Immediately, the duo recalled that there was someone else in the room with them and turned around to see a tall, ice-blue eyed man standing behind the couch, staring at them with an raised eyebrow.

To his surprise, Charis beamed and jumped over the couch so she could tackle the man in a hug, "Uncle James!"

Tony paused, looking – _truly looking_ – at the stoic, blue-eyed man dressed in all black. Much like Charis, there was something familiar about him but then again the two of them were related so it wasn't too surprisingly for them to share a few similar features. But that didn't explain why

"Did you eat?" The man asked and that voice, Tony noted, was the same Brooklyn accented one from the desert. Although there was no hint of Russian accent this time.

Charis nodded, looking up at ice-blue eyed man with concern, "I made a soup for us, do you want me to heat a bowl for you?"

Tony blinked as the stoic man smiled fondly down at her, shaking his head, "No, doll. I'm fine."

The small girl gave him a dubious look but didn't have time to say anything while the brown-haired genius watching their interaction.

So this was the famous Uncle James?

He – Tony's thoughts came to a abruptly halt, stepping back as he felt like someone had just punched all air out of him as those ice-blue eyes looked in direction and allowed the whiskey-eyed engineer to see his face properly and finally remember where he had seen it.

"James?" Tony blinked, numbly letting go of the block in his hands, "James _Barnes_?"

* * *

**C.P**

Harry looked from James to Mr. Stark and then back again, trying to decide if she should panic or merely sit down and watch the whole identity reveal unfold without her unwanted and definitely not needed intervention.

At the end, she decided to collect all JENGA blocks from the living floor, looking over the couch a few times to check what James and Mr. Stark were doing. She didn't think that her Great-Uncle was going to reveal the whole _Stark, I killed your parents _thing now but nothing stopped him from explaining to Mr. Stark why he looked so young instead of an old man.

_And, oh look, he just did_, Harry thought with a hint of dark humor as the expression on Mr. Stark's face twisted as he seemed to pale a shade or two.

The small girl sighed, hoping that Mr. Stark won't be terrified enough to run away from them. She liked the man, he was fun in a way that she imagined the twins' eldest brothers were, and the raven-haired witch didn't want to see him go yet.

Harry closed the JENGA box, standing up to make her way towards her room. Half-way to the stairs though, James called her, having stood up from the table and walking in her direction alongside a dazzled looking Mr. Stark.

She gave the man a concerned look but he didn't seem to have noticed it.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," her Great-Uncle said gently, kissing her forehead before muttering a low _good night_ and walking away.

He must have been tired. Not that it surprised her. James had stayed out of the house the whole day trying to learn more about Mr. Stark's kidnapping as well looking for a way to help the other man go back home safely without anyone attacking him (Be it those behind his kidnapping or the paparazzi). She hoped that he had found what he was looking for.

"Are you alright, Mr. Stark?" Harry asked as they reached the third floor, noticing that he staring ahead with unfocused eyes.

He blinked, looking at her. A second later, the engineer smiled what she was starting to call his _public smile_.

"I'm fine! Don't worry about it, kid," Mr. Stark waved his hand. "I merely learned about… Well, a few surprising news."

Noticing that he was holding something, her eyes flickered to the tick yellow folder. Harry thought about it for a moment before nodding her head. It was none of her business – If Mr. Stark wanted to talk then she would be there to listen. Otherwise, Harry won't ask him about it.

His eyes widened as she told him so, smiling softly. The way M. Stark stared at her was a little sad, as he couldn't believe that someone like her existed, as if no one had ever offered their support in such manner.

"I… Thanks, kid," Mr. Stark licked his dry lips, blinking his eyes.

There was a moment of silence as they reached the door of Mr. Stark's temporary room. Reaching out for the doorknob, the whiskey-eyed man paused, eyes flickering as if he was planning something.

"Hey, kid."

Harry stopped by her own door, turning to look at the genius with curiosity, "Yes?"

"_Barnes_ explained that it would be better for me to stay inside the house for a week or so. To allow my body to heal completely," Mr. Stark explained, fingers tapping the doorknob. "And I agree with it. But, if I give him a list… Do you think your… _Uncle_ would be able to find a few things out for me?"

The small witch gave him a confused look at the odd request but nodded, "Sure. Although I can't promise that Uncle James will find everything that you want."

"Nah, that's ok," he said with a smirk. There was a pause before he called her again, "And kid?"

Harry peered at him curiously, "Huh?"

"Call me Tony."

She smiled sweetly, "Sure Tony! And welcome to the family! I hope you'll like your short stay with us!"

The green-eyed thirteen years old stepped into her room, closing the door behind her. She never noticed the way his eyes widened in surprise at her words, whiskey-brown orbs glimmering.

Placing a hand over his eyes, the engineer inhaled deeply. He tried to ignore the feelings those words invoked, tried to ignore how he couldn't remember the last time he was part of a family…

* * *

As the days passed by, Mr. Star – _Tony _started to look healthier. He gained weight and his complexion was as pale and sickly as before. Honestly, it was a good thing, but Harry couldn't bring herself to feel too excited about it. Especially not when she knew that he would be leaving soon.

Her Great-Uncle didn't say anything but she knew that he was having the same problem. She didn't think he noticed, but having a friend close to his age was helping in a way that the sessions with Healer Summers couldn't.

When the two men weren't playing a few board games with her or just telling her a few stories when she asked, they were sitting by the fire in the study and plotting something and sharing experiences, be it good or bad. They understood each other in a way that only brothers could, or at least that was what she thought.

It would be weird to see Tony leave. Although she hoped he could visit them sometimes…

The green-eyed girl grimaced, recalling that it would be a little difficult for a non-magical to find Rosewood's Mews. Well, she could always introduce the man to magic, maybe even stop him from tearing his hair in frustration over magical candy (Although it pretty funny to see him freak out over it), but Tony was a man of science and Harry didn't want to see him looking at her as if she was some kind of freak.

Sighing, Harry closed her book, standing up from her seat.

Thinking about it won't help. What happened, happened. The raven-haired witch would have to wait and see how Tony reacted to magic if he learned about it.

Walking out of the library, she found the genius standing in the corridor, staring at one of the pictures hanging on the wall with narrowed eyes as if the genius was trying to resolve some kind of puzzle.

Discretely, Harry checked if the _Notice Me Not Charm_ was working, knowing very well that all pictures in the house were magical ones. Thankfully, it was.

"What's wrong?" She asked curiously, stopping beside him.

Tony blinked, looking at the green-eyed witch before grinning, "Oh, nothing. I was just curious about this picture."

Harry looked at the picture, noticing that it was one of her, Neville and the twins playing in the snow. Collin had taken the picture after she asked him too, although she was pretty sure that he would have done so even if she hadn't.

"Oh, those are my friends from school!" The small thirteen years old told him brightly, "That's Neville. And that's Fred," Harry pointed them out as she spoke, "_and _George."

Tony smiled, "And which one is your Rhodey?" He gave her serious look, "_Everyone_ needs a Rhodey in their life."

Having been told about his friends, Harry grinned.

"I think Neville is my Rhodey _and _my Pepper," his expression twisted with something akin to fear at the mere thought, making her laugh. "I think the twins are more similar to you."

The brown-haired man arched his eyebrows, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Smiling, Harry wiggled her finger at him.

"There – Now you even look like them."

"You need to introduce me to those kids," Tony said. "I'm curious now."

The green-eyed witch snorted, already imagining all the chaos those three would cause. The world certainly wasn't ready for an alliance between the Weasley Twins and Tony Stark.

"We'll see," Harry said dryly. "Anyway, how was your check-up?" She asked as they started making their way down the corridor.

The billionaire gave her a look. It was a look that she knew well, one that she had seen several times in the mirror whenever the small witch knew that she would have to visit the Hospital Wing at some point.

"What check-up?" He asked slowly.

"The Hea – doctor –" she corrected herself quickly, hoping that he hadn't noticed her slip up and avoiding his eyes as she continued, "– who took care of you when Uncle James brought you home wanted to see how you were doing. And maybe talk to you about your nightlight."

Tony chortled, "_Nightlight_?"

Harry made a motion to the Arc Reactor in his chest. He had tried to explain how it worked but only James understood part of the explanation. Harry, on other hand, didn't understand a single word aside from the fact that it was keeping him alive.

"What does he want to talk about?" He asked. His face didn't show much but something told her that Tony didn't want to talk about his Arc Reactor with a stranger.

The raven-haired girl shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe he wants to speak to you about taking it off or something. Or getting another one."

One never knew with a wizard. She knew how unpredictable magicals could be sometimes.

"If he didn't come to see you this morning then I think that he'll show up soon," Harry mused.

Tony hummed, opening his mouth to speak only to cut himself off when they noticed James and an old, grey haired wizard dressed in lime-green robes. The whiskey-eyed engineer arched his eyebrows at the robes while Harry mirrored the expression of disbelief and exasperation on her Great-Uncle's face.

_International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? What International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy? _The witch thought sarcastically. _I don't think that exists in Britain…_

"Mr. Stark! I see you're awake!" The Healer said exuberantly, walking up to them and shaking the now shell shocked Tony's hand, "The name's Taylor, Jack Taylor. Head of the Department of Non-Magical Injuries of _St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries_! I was the one called when Mr. Barnes brought you to his home! How're you feeling today? You certainly look much better than the last time I saw you!"

James facepalmed as Harry gaped, emerald green eyes widening with pure horror as she processed the Healer's words. The thirteen years old felt like crying, not believing that this was how Tony learned about the existence of magic.

Tony blinked one, two, _three_ times, staring at Healer Taylor as if the man was an alien (Harry hated to be mean, but at the moment he was more like a bloody idiot than an alien). The wizard either didn't notice the current mental state of his patient or he was ignoring it.

Harry won't have been surprised if it was the latter.

The small witch wondered if she should say or do something as Healer Taylor pulled a tongue depressor from the sleeve of his robes, pitting it inside Tony's mouth as the American tried to speak.

"So, Mr. Barnes didn't tell me much about you!" Healer Taylor said, making a motion to James, "Where're you from?" Tony grunted something inaudible, unable to talk properly, but the exuberant Healer nodded, "Really? I have family there! Beautiful country – Say, you do any fishing? That's something Muggles still do, right? British wizards stopped fishing during the eighteenth century when this nice fella by the name of Olly decided to create a spell that would do the fishing for us and…" He started to tell the tale.

Dazzled, Harry stared as the Healer babbled, doing several things at the same time; from putting the depressor away to taking Tony's pulse, then pulling two empty vials from the pocket of his lime-green robes.

"Here," he handed the vials to the brown-haired genius, "I'm gonna need you to fill these up."

Poor Tony wasn't the only one who gave him a _look _at that.

"Now where's my – _Oh_, silly me, I forgot my bag downstairs!" Healer Taylor laughed, "I'll be right back to continue with your check-up!"

With a wave and a grin, Hurricane Taylor ran downstairs, leaving the others stunned and staring at his restraining back with wide eyes.

There was a moment of silence before Tony turned to stare at Harry and James.

"I… I don't need to fill those do I?" He asked, blinking his eyes as if he was still trying to understand what had just happened.

Harry gave him a sympathetic look. Internally, though, she was hoping that he was so shocked that he didn't pay attention to any mention of –

"_Sooo_, _magic_?"

This time, Harry was the one who facepalmed.

**I thought I had published it before but I think I fell asleep before sending the chapter and then I woke up the next the morning all sad that no one had sent a single review. *Facepalm* I should have checked. Well, I'm publishing it for real now and won't be going to sleep for a while. XD**

**Anyway… Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM. **

**-Cissnei. **

**TIMELINE!**

**June 20, 2009 – **_Hogwarts Express back to London. _

**July 19, 2009 – **_Tony Stark finds his way out._

*****_James and Sirius_** (**Plus the uninvited Lupin**) **leave by Portkey to rescue Tony Stark

**July 21, 2009 – **_Tony wakes up in Harry's and James' house._

**July 26, 2009 – **_Tony learns about the existence of magic._

_*****__Healer Taylor of the Department of Non-Magical Injuries of St. Mungos comes to check on Tony._


	19. Chapter 19

**Rewrite the Stars**

**Summary: **_"Love is that condition in which the happiness of another person is essential to your own." – Robert A. Heinlein, Stranger in a Strange Land. FemHarry. _

**Just a warning:** _FemHarry, AU, Language, Clichés, Age Difference, Messed Time Line, More in the Future _

**Just so you know (Name):** _FemHarry's name is Charis Aster Potter. In Greek mythology, a Charis is one of the Charites or "Graces"; goddesses of charm, beauty, nature, human creativity and fertility. This name comes from an Ancient Greek word meaning "Grace", "Kindness" and "Life". Aster is an Ancient Greek word for "Star" while the meaning of the flower Aster can differ depending on the presentation, my favorites being "Elegance", "Patience" and "Daintiness". Also, the Ancient Greeks used to burn aster leaves to ward off both snakes and evil spirits. _

**I don't own anything related to Marvel or Harry Potter!**

**Chapter 19. Painfully Truth**

**T.S**

As Dara O'Bhriain once said: Science _knows _it doesn't know everything. Otherwise, it'd stop. And Tony? Well, he was more than aware that he didn't know everything. He _knew_ that there was more to this world, _knew_ that there were things that not even science could possibly explain.

Honestly, he was more open-minded than what certain people liked to believe.

_So _– Magic?

Ok.

It was pretty cool, he could accept it. But that didn't stop him from wanting to learn how it worked, what kind of rules applied to it (Just because he accepted the existence of magic didn't mean that he won't at least try to find a way to understand the source behind its powers or even reproduce it. He won't have been Tony Stark if he ignored this kind of challenge)… What kind of energy was magic? Many considered dark matter to be connected to supernatural forces, was there any truth to such theory? What about wands? Were they really needed?

"_And_ we lost him."

Whiskey-brown eyes blinked as Tony pulled himself away from his thoughts to see Charis and James staring at him with identical looks of amusement.

"I was merely thinking, " Tony said, arching his eyebrow.

Charis huffed, leaning back against the couch, "Don't think too much about it. You'll end up with a headache. Most times than not, magic and logic doesn't mix."

"What about magic and technology?" He asked, wishing that he had access to his lab so he could try to study one of the moving pictures that could be found around the house.

"Old technology is fine – At least for a month or two." Charis shrugged and added like the eloquent teenager she was, "After that, it goes _boom _like anything else made those days which comes in contact with magic."

He narrowed his eyes in thought.

What would be considered old technology to Charis? And why would magic destroy any kind of technology? Actually, what kind of technology were they talking about here? Electronics? If so, then maybe the energy that magic was made off was similar to EMP pulses…

"Well, we lost him again," James muttered, lips twitching up as his niece puffed her cheeks and elbowed his side.

"Say Tony, you don't really look surprised," Charis pointed out, making him blink once more and look at the raven-haired girl.

The engineer snorted, leaning back against his armchair, "I was already suspicious. Shifting pictures and clocks and _flowers _can't be normal. I knew that there was something _different _about this place."

The thirteen years old stared at him before she processed his words, eyes widening as she seemed to come to some kind of conclusion.

"Oh – _Oh! _So Healer Taylor wasn't a complete moron! Good to know."

"Charis," James gave her a look.

The small girl corrected herself, "A barmy idiot."

"_Charis_," James pinched the bridge of his nose with exasperation but Tony could see the fondness in his eyes.

"I hate to be mean, Uncle James," she crossed her arms, pursuing her lips with indignation, "but I was thinking it, you were thinking it – If there were more people in the know in the corridor with us then _they _would have been thinking the same thing."

The ice-blue eyed man didn't reply. It was clear that he agreed with his niece.

Turning her attention back to him, Charis started explaining, "There's something in the Wizarding World –"

_Wizarding World_, Tony thought a little dazzled. He hadn't thought that Charis and the strangely cheerfully doctor were the only ones that could use magic, not after the mention of a magical hospital of all things, but he also hadn't imagined that there were enough magical people to make up a whole World… A whole world hidden right under everyone's nose.

_Holy shit_, the genius laughed internally, wondering how the hell no one had learned about it. How hadn't the satellites caught something like wizards and magical hospitals on camera?

His little friend continued, "– called the _International Statute of Magical Secrecy_. It's a law first signed in 1689 and then established officially in 1692. The law was created to separate the Magical World from the Non-Magical one."

Wait –

"1692?" Tony interrupted her, "That's around the Salem Witch Trials."

Charis grimaced, "The American Trials, yes."

He stared, trying to remember what he knew about the whole event. There had been more than the Trials in Massachusetts?

His thoughts must have been all over his face because the green-eyed girl smiled sadly, "In Europe, several Trials happened between 1530 and 1675." Whiskey-brown eyes widened as he stared at Charis who wasn't finished yet, "Then there were the so called Trials during World War II…"

James closed his eyes at this.

Tony opened his mouth to ask but restrained himself from doing so. He didn't think he wanted to know what she meant with her last comment. Shaking his head, the brown-haired man took a moment before asking:

"Couldn't – Why didn't you people use magic to protect themselves?"

"Oh, but we did." Charis' lips twitched into a bitter smile, "Several methods were created and used to escape or hide. It worked for a while." She looked up for a second, "But well…"

_Traitors_, Tony thought bitterly, already guessing what she was thinking. Because of course there were traitors involved. What was history without some kind of greedy traitor betraying their own friends, family and neighbors to those that would use and kill them?

He shook his head, not wanting to start thinking about the information James had given to him about his company, about the man who betrayed his trust and sold him out.

"Anyway," Charis cleared her throat, "in simple terms, the _International Statute of Secrecy_ says that we can't reveal magical to Muggles – I mean, Non-Magicals. The only exceptions to that rule are close relatives or spouses and children."

"Then comes Taylor and breaks the law without even blinking," James muttered.

"Yeah," she nodded, looking the long-haired man with a smile, "but look – I think that when he first came to see Tony, he must have noticed the magic in him and assumed that he was just a Squib from America."

"I did say that he was our distant cousin," James hummed.

Tony sputtered, chocking in his own spite as he waved his hands, "Wait just a minute – H-He noticed the what in who?!"

James snorted while Charis, the little troll, giggled and clapped when she noticed the expression on his face, "Congratulations, Tony, you've a little bit of magic within you."

He couldn't be blamed for sounding like a dying cat at that moment.

As interesting this whole magic business was, he couldn't really warp in his head on the possibility of _him _– _Tony Stark _– having magic.

"You don't need to look like that," James said. "Squibs may have magic but they can't use it."

Tony forced himself to relax and think, "It's dormant?"

"To a point," Charis said. "Uncle James and I learned that Squibs have passive magical skills, like seeing through illusions, being able to find magical buildings and using magical objects, and etc. We're still learning about it but it seems like those passive skills vary from one person to another."

James placed his arm around her shoulder, leaning back, "One thing we know for certain is that it's like a switch. After a Squib acknowledges the existence of magic, they can't miss it again."

Blinking, Tony looked back at the kitchen, eyes flickering around it until they landed on the flickering clock. He didn't know what to think when, much like before, it started to change before his very eyes, as if some kind of veil was lifted from his eyes, allowing him to see that in place of hours on the clock's face, there were a series of locations and status: Home, School, Hospital, Diagon Alley, Rosewood's Mews, Gringotts, Travelling, Mortal Peril and Injured. Each clock's golden hands, which had James' and Charis' name on it, was pointing at _Home _at the moment.

_Oh..._

Whiskey-brown eyes blinked as the genius contemplated how such thing had been created, hands itching to take the clock apart. James and Charis shared a look when they noticed his interest, the latter giggling a little.

"I can show you my schoolbooks if you want," Charis offered, making him look at her, "or we can just visit the library since now you can see the magical books." She made a pause thinking about it, "Oh, we can show you Rosewood's Mews now!"

"And what's that?" The engineer asked curiously, feeling like a child in a candy store. He wanted to see everything, to learn as much as he could about this new source of energy.

Charis grinned.

* * *

Rosewood's Mews, Tony learned the next morning, was supposedly the magical street where James' and Charis' house was located.

The moment his eyes landed on all the shops and houses, however, he disagreed with that description – That wasn't a street. It was a fucking _dimensionally transcendental small village_ in the _middle_ of _London_.

By Tesla… This – This was –

"A TARDIS," Tony muttered faintly, mind filled with one theory after the other. "This whole place is basically a fucking TARDIS."

This was a dream come true. _Oh_, how Tony wished to have access to his lab. He really wanted to learn how this was possible. Were they actually standing in a pocket dimension? Maybe another dimension altogether?

"Come on, Doctor," James grabbed his shoulder, "Charis wants to visit some of the shops."

Whiskey-brown eyes blinked at the other man, "I'm surprised you even know what I'm talking about, old man."

He was genuinely surprised. From everything that James had told him about his time as HYDRA's brainwashed pet assassin after Tony recognize him, he couldn't imagine the ice-blue eyed veteran having time or even being allowed to watch TV.

Instead of replying, James pointed something out; a old building that looked like one of those cinema theaters. Tony stared, noticing a group of kids and teenagers looking up at old TV shows and movies posters.

"An American wizard found a way to record a few shows and movies with magic somehow," he explained. James smiled one of his rare fond smiles that appeared on his stoic face whenever he was talking to or about his niece, "Charis and I go to the theater sometimes."

Charis, who had been looking through her handbag in search of her money pouch, looked up and chimed in, "I heard that Mr. Russell is trying to find another way to bring those movies and shows to us because his process is too long. Some of our neighbors said that his son is trying to make a telly that works around magic, but I don't know if that it's just a rumor…"

Tony rubbed his chin with a glint in his eyes.

It looked like he had another thing to add to his to-do list. He would definitely be busy when he got back to Malibu.

"Do you know him?" He asked.

The small girl scrunched her nose, "Who? Mr. Russell's son? Not really. I've seen him around but he goes to Ilvermorny." When she noticed the expression on his face, Charis explained, "It's the biggest magical school in North America. I think it's in Massachusetts."

_Ilvermorny_? What kind of name was that?

Charis grinned when he snorted, "If you think that is funny, then you should hear the name of my school."

"What's the name of your school?" He arched an eyebrow.

"Hogwarts," James said dryly.

The genius threw his head back, laughing. _Pig warts_?! What kind of people would think that such name was a good idea for a school?

He must have asked it out loud because both Charis and James rolled their eyes and said, "Wizards."

Minutes later Tony found himself standing in a elegant clothes shop owned by a kind old Desi man. Charis insisted in paying for all the suits, shirts and pants that he picked for himself, pointing out that he didn't exactly have money with him at the moment ("I'm paying you back later, kid." "Sure, Tony.")

After that, the trio merely walked around, the sun shinning brightly over their heads as they made their way from shop to shop, seeing what they had to offer. Tony was rather impressed with the plaza when they visited, grabbing a few things for Pepper, Rhodey and Happy from the eccentric-looking stalls. It was the least he could do for making them worry for so long.

"Well? What now?" He asked as they walked down the street.

Charis perked up, pointing to cute little shop that seemed to be made of ice and had polar bear and penguin decorations everywhere, "Ice-Cream!"

Tony hummed, wondering what kind of ice-cream wizards and witch ate, before shrugging, "Sure."

"I'll get it," James said as they stopped by a table with a bright colored umbrella in front of the ice-cream shop. "What do you two want?"

"Butterbeer," Charis beamed, sitting down.

James chuckled fondly, "Why don't you get something new, doll? You always ask for the Butterbeer flavored one."

The thirteen years old huffed, scrunching her nose in disgust, "And you always ask for peach and jalapeño."

Tony arched an eyebrow. It was strange but certainly not the strangest ice-cream flavor he had heard about... Let's just say that Pepper had some odd tastes and leave it at that.

"I'll get something new if you do as well," Charis offered her hand to her Uncle who shook it with a tilt of his lips.

"Deal," the long-haired veteran said before turning his attention toward Tony. "What do you want Tony?"

"Can't I take a look at the menu?" He asked, not wanting have a repeat of his experience with magical candy.

Those beans as well all the other kind of candy that Charis had given to him so far was fascinating, some were even delicious, but he really didn't want to end up with something like vomit flavored ice-cream.

James made a motion for the genius to follow him and they walked inside the shop. Some of the workers greeted the ice-blue eyed man cheerfully, asking about Charis before handing the menu to Tony.

The brown-haired billionaire stared on disbelief at some of the flavors sold at the shop. Hoping that some of the names weren't literal…

_What the fuck? _He thought, _Dragon Blood? Cockroach Cluster?!_

"I want one Cookies n' Cauldron Cakes, one Turmeric & Candied Ginger and…"

Tony looked up as the other man arched his eyebrow at him. Thinking about it, he picked one of the safest looking options in the menu.

"The Balsamic Blueberry Goat Cheese," the genius said, handing the menu back to the teenager boy behind the ice-cream display.

"One moment, sirs!" The boy said cheerfully, moving to get their orders.

There was a moment of silence as they waited before, who just couldn't handle the silence, asked the ice-blue eyed man about when Doctor (Healer – It was Healer) Taylor would be coming to see him again. The older man had informed them after his check up that he would be back but he never said _when_.

"He and Summers will more likely visit the house in a day or two," James replied, leaning against the counter and looking at Charis.

The small girl leaned back against her chair, noticing the two of them before smiling gently and waving her hand.

Tony waved back, thinking for a moment until he decided to ask, "Summers?"

"My Mind Healer," the other man looked at him from the corner of his eyes. "Charis called her," he shook his head fondly. "She's worried about the constant nightmares you have."

He didn't bothering asking what a Mind Healer was. Tony was smart enough to guess that it was the magical version of a psychologist. He was also smart enough to guess what kind of magic those people used to treat their patients.

"I don't need anyone looking into my head," the billionaire said, ignoring James' last comment.

His mind was his own. He refused to let anyone mess around with it.

James looked at him understanding although his stoic face never faltered. Sighing, he said, "It does help."

The whiskey-eyed engineer opened his mouth to snap at the other man but stopped himself. James had more reasons to avoid someone with the ability to look through his head than Tony did.

Dropping his shoulders slightly, he crossed his arms, "Fine. I'll see this Summers."

"Charis will be happy to hear that."

Tony huffed.

At least someone was going to be happy with it.

* * *

Healer Summers and Hurricane Taylor showed the next day, much to Tony's irritation. He had wanted to have some time before having to deal with someone looking through his head.

The two magicals were sitting in the living room with Charis, telling her about their jobs. They were trying to tempt her to work as an healer in the future. Apparently, the small girl had a talent for healing spells.

Usually, he would have taken their distraction as his chance to space; leaving the house before anyone noticed and only coming back late at night. But Charis looked so lost and confused as she tried and failed to explain that she didn't know what she wanted to do with her life after graduation, that Tony didn't have the heart to do such thing to her.

"Well, hello there!" He said, making the three magicals look at him.

Hurricane Taylor jumped to his feet, not wasting time to shake his hand with a dazzling smile that would have blinded anyone looking directly at it. Summers, a golden haired woman who reminded him a lot of Ana Jarvis, stood up calmly, walking in his direction with amusement.

"Mr. Stark!" Hurricane Taylor said, "I hope you're feeling well today? No dizziness? Have you been eating properly –"

"Jack," Summers cut him off. "I think _you're _making him dizzy." Her hazel eyes looked into his whiskey-brown as she said, "Good afternoon, Mr. Stark. I'm Alia Summers. Mr. Barnes', and now yours, Mind Healer."

Although, uncomfortable and not wanting to be there, Tony knew how to be polite.

"Tony Stark," he smiled charmingly, kissing the back of her hand. "But you already new that."

The woman chuckled, "My, aren't you charming? Just like Mr. Barnes."

The genius arched his eyebrows while Charis snickered.

"James? _Charming?_" He spoke slowly, "Are we talking about the same human shaped brick of ice?"

As much as he liked James and saw the man as a friend, Tony wasn't blind to the fact that if he wasn't in the same room as his niece then the ice-blue eyed veteran's face barely showed any kind of emotion.

"Hey!" Charis puffed her cheeks at him, angry at the description.

Tony resisted the urge of cooing, reaching out her cheek. It was ridiculous how adorable the little troll was.

Hurricane Taylor laughed while Healer Summers smiled, saying, "He can be charming when he wants to. Anyway, are you ready to start?"

"Now?" He pursued his lips slightly.

"The earliest we start, the better," the older woman said kindly.

Tony took a deep breath, nodding his head. He didn't like it but the genius knew that it would be better to do it now and be over with it.

Hurricane Taylor had stopped smiling, looking uncharacteristically serious. For a few moments he gazed intently at Tony, then he said, "I'll be waiting for two to be finished with your appointment before we talk about that interesting object on your chest Mr. Stark. I found a few things in your exams that worries me." He waited until Tony processed his words and nodded his head before smiling once more, "Well, why don't you show me your garden Miss Potter?! I would love to see what kind of flowers do you have!"

Charis didn't move, giving Tony a look. He grinned, waving his hand dismissively and getting a sweet smile in return. Nodding, she escorted Hurricane Taylor into the garden while the old wizard babbled about magical flowers and their use in medicine.

Summers made a motion to the couch, silently asking him to sit down. Tony did so, hoping that this appointment would actually help having a good night of sleep without any kind of interruption.

Later, when both Healers had already left, Tony would find that it did help; thanking Charis for having called Summers and feeling happy to know that he had people who cared about his well-being.

* * *

**C.P**

"_OUCH!"_

Harry's scream was followed by the familiar sound of gunfire and a loudly, terrified screech.

The small girl massaged the spot on the side of her head that had been hit by the old feathery disaster going by the name of Errol and glared, not feeling all sympathetic when she saw that the Great Grey Owl was laying against the kitchen counter with his legs in the air and two envelopes in his beak. There was a bullet role on the just above him and the only reason Harry knew that he was alive was because Errol was twitching slightly.

From her perch, Hedwig gave Errol a _look_, as if the Snowy Owl believed that he was an embarrassment to all owls out there. Knowing her familiar, that was exactly what she was thinking.

James started raising his gun once more and Harry waved her hands to stop him. She had no idea of what she said, still a little dizzy from her collision against Errol, but it must have been something along the lines of _No! He belongs to the twins!_.

From his seat, looking up a stack of papers that he had been writing on ever since

From his seat, looking up from behind the piles of books surrounding him, Tony arched his eyebrows.

Harry was rather relieved to see the glint of amusement into his whiskey-brown eyes, having noticed that he had been looking rather tired, albeit determined, after Healer Taylor spoke to him about his Arc Reactor during their last check-up.

She didn't know what they talked about, but it must have been something really serious because Tony had been working non-stop to create some kind of new element. At least that was what he tried to explain to her after she forced him out of his room so he could eat.

"They need a new owl," James pursued his lips, kneeling next to her and holding her face gently. He only let go after he was sure that she hadn't ended up with an concussion.

"Alright there, kid?"

"I'm fine," Harry smiled at Tony, seeing how concerned he was.

Her Great-Uncle helped her stand up and the thirteen years old approached Errol's limp form, shaking her head a little. Prodding Errol gently with the tip of her finger, the green-eyed witch took the envelopes from him. One was for her and the other, surprisingly, was for James.

The ice-blue eyed man took the envelope with an arched eyebrow while Harry opened hers. Inside, she found a note written by George (At least she thought it was George. Even the twins' handwriting was similar).

_Harrykins!_

_You won't believe what happened! DAD GOT US TICKETS FOR THE FINALS OF THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP!_

_Granted no one knows who will be playing yet, but we heard that the tickets are already selling like water in a desert so it's almost impossible to get one, much less to thirteen. Mom wrote a letter to Mr. Barnes to ask if you two want to come; we hope you'll. Ron invited Hermione so you and your terrifying bodyguard shall be our illustrious guests. You can even bring your new stray with you! We can't wait to meet this famous Tony that you have been writing about._

_Hoping to hear from you soon,_

_Gred (and Forge)._

Yep, it was George's handwriting.

"Do you want to go, doll?"

She blinked, snapping out of her thoughts and turning her head to look at her Great-Uncle. The dark haired man was tapping the letter clutched in his flesh hand, scanning whatever Mrs. Weasley had written there.

Harry shifted her weight from one foot to another, nipping her bottom lip.

Part of her really wanted to go; she had never gone in a event like this one and it sounded like fun. But another part of her, a cowardly part of her, knew that this would be the best opportunity for an confrontation between her and Ron and Hermione to happen and the small witch didn't want that…

Regardless, Harry needed to apologize to Mrs. Weasley for having avoided her after Second Year and maybe she also needed that confrontation with the other two members of the old Golden Trio.

Shaking her head, Harry decided to think about it later and smiled at her Great-Uncle, "I would love to, it sounds like fun!" She made a pause, looking at Tony, "Do you want to go, Tony?"

The billionaire blinked, "Go where?"

"The Quidditch World Cup's Finals!" She replied with excitement.

His face mirrored her excitement, having hear a lot about the magical sport from her.

"When will it happen?"

Harry's smile dropped.

She had no idea. What did she know was that by then, Tony would already be back in Malibu.

"August 25," James said, reaching out to ruffle her hair and getting a weak smile in return.

Tony pursued his lips, grumbling a little, "I need to check. But I'll do my best to come," he grinned at her, looking like he was already making plans to how he would be doing so.

Harry grinned back.

She hoped that he would be able to go with them.

"Is this World Cup any similar to the normal one?" Tony asked, reaching out to grab an apple from the basket across him.

The small witch tapped her chin in thought, "I don't know." She shrugged, "I don't even know how the Non-magical World Cup works."

"Well, for one, it happens every four years…" the genius started explaining how the World Cup worked: how they picked the country which would house it, how does one qualify to participate on it, etc.

Harry sat down to listen, nodding her head with a sweet smile as Tony spoke. He didn't seen to be the biggest football (Or soccer as the Americans called it) but he knew a lot about it.

"My mother loved the sport," He informed with a small, sad smile after Harry asked him about it. "It was never one of my favorites but I made sure to watch all games after she died. _Go Italy!_" He waved an imaginary flag.

"Your mum was Italian?" Harry said, always happy to learn more about her new friend.

Tony blinked, grinning at her, "Both my mother and Grandmother were. Actually, I'm too. I've a citizenship and everything."

"Wow!"

The brown-haired genius started talking once more, and while she did pay attention to his words, Harry also focused her attention on her Great-Uncle. His ice-blue eyes had clouded slightly and the expression on his face was completely blank.

She didn't need to be a genius to know that he was conflicted. He looked like that every time Tony mentioned his parents (Or rather, his mother. He barely spoke about his father and when he did, his voice always held a sign of bitterness).

Thinking about it, it didn't take long for Harry to understand that he was tired from hiding the truth from Tony. The man was his friend and it hiding something of this magnitude wasn't right. The whiskey-eyed engineer deserved to know what truly happened to his parents…

Harry was only worried about how he would react upon learning the truth.

"Charis."

She jumped slightly, turning her head to look at the dark haired man. Her Great-Uncle gave her one look and she _knew_.

James was tired from hiding. He had reached his limit and would probably tell Tony about his parents.

Today.

The small witch opened her mouth, not even knowing what she was going to say. Part of her wanted to reassure him that everything would be alright while another part of her wanted to stop him, tell him that this was a horrible idea. But Harry stayed in silence, forcing a smile.

James gave her another look, eyes softening as he knew exactly what she was thinking, and looked at the clock, "You better get ready before Black shows up."

Straightening her back, Harry blinked, "He's coming today?!"

Tony looked between them with interest. He hadn't been introduced to her godfather yet, mostly because the man had mysteriously disappeared after he returned from Afghanistan with James, but Harry had told him about Sirius.

James paused, looking over his shoulder. The small thirteen years old was so distracted that she didn't notice the lack of enthusiasm as he replied.

"Yes…" Her ice-blue eyed Great-Uncle deadpanned.

"Why didn't you tell me early?! I need to buy a few things for dinner!"

Without waiting for an answer, the raven-haired thirteen years old jumped a little, waving to Tony and running past her Great-Uncle and in direction of her room so she could grab her small handbag. She quickly found her red handbag and grabbed a pair of sneakers before starting to run again.

She only stopped when she was out of the house, looking back to stare at the door with apprehension.

Harry wasn't stupid.

James hadn't said anything but she knew that he wanted her out of the house so she left the house. She – Now Harry could only hope that everything would be fine. Her birthday was tomorrow and she really wanted Tony there with them…

* * *

**T.S**

Exhausted, Tony rubbed his eyes as he pushed himself away from the table, cursing under his breath.

There was something missing.

He didn't trust Hurricane Taylor all that much but Tony had to admit that the wizard knew what he was doing. Then again, he had to – One didn't live one hundred and thirty five years without learning a few tricks.

So, when the older man informed him in his last check-up, a little after his appointment with the blonde-haired Summers, that he should find a safe way to change his Arc Reactor because the palladium would end up killing him in a year or so then that was exactly what Tony would do.

He tried to not think about his death. He had no time to freak out about it – Tony had far too much to do and he couldn't die any time soon.

With that in mind, he had decided to find or at least create a new element that could be used for the new Arc Reactor he had already been planning to make. Unfortunately, the brown-haired genius couldn't think of anything. No matter how much he tried, he never got the result he wanted.

_Maybe I could look through dad things when I get back to Malibu, _Tony thought with a grimace.

As much as he hated to admit it, the brown-haired billionaire knew it won't hurt to look. There was a big possibility that he would fins something to help him stay alive. Hurricane Taylor had made it clear that while magic could delay the palladium poisoning, it won't be able to cure him.

Well, it didn't matter at the moment. Tony would have to wait until he had access to his lab before he could truly do anything.

"I wonder if Charis is back?" He muttered, collecting all his papers and walking out of the library.

The whiskey-eyed man made his way to his room, placing his papers over the blueprints he had made for his future suit of armors, which he also would be working on the moment he had access to his lab.

"I can't remember the last time I had so much work to do," he muttered petulantly. "It's in moments like this that I miss JARVIS more than anything. He would have been a great help."

Shaking his head, the genius dragged himself towards his bed when he noticed a flash of silvery light coming from his left. He paused, turning around to see something over the coffee table; something that definitely hadn't been there that morning.

The object was a bronze bowl with odd obsidian carvings around the edge; runes and symbols that Tony recognized from Charis' schoolbooks.

The silvery light he had seen early was coming from the contents of the bowl, and Tony wasn't too happy to admit that he couldn't tell whether the substance was made of liquid or gas. Honestly, he decided to not think about it all that much – The engineer knew that all he would gain from it was a headache.

The maybe-liquid-or-gas was bright and whitish silver, moving ceaselessly around the bowl much like water beneath wind or clouds that were separated and swirled smoothly alongside the summer breeze.

Tony's fingers twitched.

He wished he could touch it to try and find out what that substance was made off. But he had been warned enough times about the dangers of magic to be wary, so he took a step back.

The whiskey-eyed genius could wait until someone came to explain what it was.

In the end, however, there was no need to wait.

"It's a Pensieve," his head whipped around, blinking when he saw James standing behind him with his arms crossed.

"That doesn't explain anything," Tony informed him, arching his eyebrow.

Before the other man could reply, Summers entered the room. The older, blonde-haired woman was wearing her lime-green robes and looked a little tired. Hadn't she looked like she would curse him for just blinking his eyes then the billionaire would have asked when she had gotten there and why.

Having clearly heard his words, the Mind Healer started explaining, "A _Pensieve_ is used to review memories – You can view any memory from a non-participant, third-person point of view. They're rather expensive and rare," Summers gave James a sharp look and continued, "so I do hope that by the time I come back for it, it'll be in perfect condition."

"We'll take care of it," James promised.

Hazel eyes narrowed with suspicion before Summers nodded with a stern look, as if to say _you better_.

"How does it work exactly?" Tony asked before he blinked, "Actually – Why do I even need this?"

He knew that this had nothing to do with his treatment. Summers' methods were more direct, involving pulling him into his own mindscape and helping him sort and deal with his experiences, speaking to and guiding him so they won't affect as negatively as they would have in normal circumstances.

"I won't know," Summer said. "Mr. Barnes didn't explain when he called me an hour go, asking if he could borrow my Pensieve…"

"I wanted to show you the truth," James said calmly.

Tony scowled, feeling a mix of curiosity and confusion. What truth? What did James want to show him? Did… Did it have anything to do with his past as HYDRA's pet assassin? If so, how was _Tony_ connected to it?

He licked his lips, not like the feeling of dread filling his whole being. His day already hadn't been the best, why with all his problem in find a way to keep himself alive, but now he felt like it would get worse.

Honestly, Tony was pretty sure that he wasn't going to like whatever memory James wanted to show him…

"Think about it," Summers instructed James, taking her wand out of the inside of her lime-green robes and placed the tip near the veteran's temple.

When the golden haired woman pulled her arm back, a glistening strand of the same strange silvery-white substance that filled the Pensieve was clinging to the tip of her wand. Seeing this, Summers nodded to herself and added the strand to the bowl before touching some of the runes.

"There," she muttered as the runes glowed, looking at James as she walked in direction of the door. "I'll be in the kitchen. Miss Potter invited me for dinner."

"Bye, Mad Madam Mim," Tony couldn't stop himself.

Summers gave him a _look_. It was the same _I want to be amused but I refuse to do it _look that she kept giving him after they were introduced by James.

"See you later, Brain."

Tony snorted at the nickname. He had been really surprised when she first called him that. Summers didn't look like the type to watch cartoons or even know what they were.

James nodded, thanking the older witch. He waited until she left, closing the door behind her, before turning his head to look at Tony. The genius, for his part, was staring at the bowl with a thoughtful frown.

There was a moment of tense silence.

"So," Tony said, taking a deep breath. He didn't know if he wanted to learn whatever truth James wished to show him but he also didn't think he had a choice in the matter, "how does it work?"

"You touch the memory," the other man replied, running a hand through his shoulder length hair and trying it back. "Then you say _Play _for it to start, _Pause _to stop it and _Replay _to start the memory anew..."

There was another moment of silence.

"And what memory would that be?" The brown-eyed genius asked, approaching the bowl cautiously.

He couldn't see it but he certainly could feel those ice-blue eyes staring at the back of his head.

"One of my missions."

Tony would have asked more but the whole room gave an almighty lurch as the tips of his fingers brushed against the silvery-white substance. His body was thrown forward and pitched headfirst into the substance inside the bowl but instead of hitting the bottom, he found himself falling through something icy-cold and black; it was like being sucked into a dark whirlpool.

He barely noticed when his feet touched the ground, blinking his eyes rapidly as he stared at the frozen sight before him. In any other circumstances, he would have compared the whole experience to some kind of virtual reality, however all he could do at that very moment was think about the very, _very_ familiar scene before him.

_I know that car,_ Tony licked his lips, closing his eyes as his heart dropped and squeezed painfully. _I know that road…_

His… His day had just gone from _bad_ to _worst day of his life_, hadn't it?

He wasn't called a genius for nothing; it didn't take him long to understand what James had wanted to show him – What _mission _the man thought he deserved to see.

Part of him wished that he could have gone on with his life without having to see this…

Shaking, Tony opened his eyes and whispered, "Play."

Unblinkingly, the brown-haired engineer watched as the Winter Soldier – _as James Barnes _– caught up to his parents' car, shooting the wheels and causing it to crash into the side of the road. Taking a deep breath before biting his hand to keep himself from sobbing like a child, he watched as the Winter Soldier – James, _goddammit_, it was _James_ – slammed his father's head onto the steering wheel before warping his left hand around his mother's neck and _strangling _Maria Stark to death.

The memory paused upon reaching the end.

Tony stared at his mother's body, her once beautiful and expressive whiskey-brown eyes stared back; lifeless and dull. He sank his teeth further, ignoring it as his hand started to bleed and his own eyes burned with unshed tears.

For almost eighteen years, he had blamed Howard for his mother's death… But he had been wrong hadn't he? Howard hadn't driven drunk, he hadn't been the cause of his mother death… Howard had actually been more worried about her than about himself…

He –

"Replay," he whispered, watching as the whole thing started once more.

He –

"Replay."

Tony –

"Replay."

Tony felt empty, numb. Closing his eyes, he felt like he was falling, the kind of fall that had no end; he just kept falling and falling without ever reaching the bottom of the dark well he had found himself into. In a way, he just wanted to stay there, to keep falling and forget everything that he had seen – To forget that the man he had started to call his friend had taken his mother from her… Had taken both of his parents from him.

Opening his eyes, Tony found himself back into his room and the moment he raised his head, and brown-eyes locked with cold ice-blue, his blood boiled under his skin and he pounced.

Grabbing the front of James' shirt, Tony threw the other man against the wall. He couldn't see anything, could barely hear anything other than this annoying ringing that just made it even more difficult to think. His free hand was moving on its own, hitting the ice-blue eyed man with a force that Tony didn't know he had.

He couldn't stop. The brown-haired man had already been stressed before and now this – This memory had just transformed that very same stress, as well exhaustion, into rage.

Tony didn't know how he continued to hit James, but it got to the point that he couldn't continue, not with the way his hand was aching and shaking – Then again, his whole body was shaking.

He stopped, bloody and bruised fist hovering a inch from James' face. Tony staring into those unresponsive ice-blue eyes and gritted his teeth, wishing he could just keep going. But how could he when his target won't fight back or defend himself.

"U-Uncle Jam –"

Tony jumped slightly, noticing Charis' dainty form by the corner of his eyes. Her voice was enough to blow the metaphorical mist from his mind, making it possible for him to start to think of something that wasn't violence and revenge.

He wondered, for a moment, when she had gotten there.

"Stay right there, Charis," James cut her off, eyes never leaving Tony's face.

There was something left unsaid there, something that Charis heard and understood because the fourteen years old nipped her bottom lip and leaned against the closed door behind her, looking conflicted.

"You –" Tony growled, "Why don't you _move_?!"

"I won't have moved even if you were truly trying to kill me," Charis choked sob was ignored, although James sent her a gently look before going back to stare at Tony blankly. "_I_ killed your parents' –" The genius had to stop himself from closing his eyes painfully at this. "_I_ took you parents away from you – My death by your hands would have been nothing more than expected."

He opened his mouth but there were no words. Tony could feel the lump in his throat as a jolt of _something_ went through him. It was difficult to discern what he was feeling much less decide between rage and despair.

The calm way James looked at him showed that there was no need for words, that he understood what he was and wasn't thinking. The blue-eyed man would have let Tony have his revenge if that was what the genius wanted, and won't have blinked if Tony decided to warp his hands around his neck and strangle the assassin.

It would have been poetic justice if he had done so.

But – But Tony couldn't do that, the mere thought of killing the other man made him sick of his stomach…

"Why?" Tony whispered, exhausted and emotionally drained. Just as fast as it had come, his rage had left him.

James blinked, "It was my mis –"

"No, I'm not talking about that," Tony spat, fingers tightening their hold on the other man's shirt. "You could have lied to me, could have kept it from me. So why did you show me the truth?! Why come to my rescue when I could learn the truth and use it against you?!"

The veteran had never spoken about the reason why he gone to Afghanistan to look for Tony. Oh, don't get him wrong. The billionaire had gotten a half-assed excuse from the man he grew to think of as a friend involving Howard but he had never truly believed it.

James tilted his head up slightly, looking at him blankly. Hadn't he know the other man for the past three weeks or so and seen his interactions with Charis, he would have missed those cold ice-blue eyes softened slightly.

"You deserved the truth," the assassin replied calmly. "And I didn't lie when I said I respected Howard far too much to let you die."

Tony flinched, finally recalling that this man, despite all lives he had taken (Including his parents'), had been brainwashed and controlled like a puppet, he was a prisoner of war for more than half a century until James met Charis and started to think for himself instead of mindless following orders as he was meant to.

"Would you have preferred if I had lied to you?" The long-haired man asked, pulling him out of his thoughts. "To hide it from you?"

Taken a back, Tony processed the question before throwing his head back and laughing sharply. He let go of James' shirt, taking a step back.

"_Yes_," the genius smiled, baring his teeth, "The truth is a fucking mess and it hurts like a bitch." Tony chocked, looking at James with dark brown eyes. "Are you seriously asking me that? Why won't I prefer a lie over the raw and painfully truth?"

"But…" Tony jumped at Charis' voice, having forgotten that the girl was in the room with them. The small witch looked from her Uncle and then back at him with sad and concerned green-eyes before she continued, "But it would have hurt you more had we tried to hide it."

His mouth closed with a click, muscles tensing as he stared at the two of them. Closing his eyes, Tony turned around and started walking from them.

He needed to think. He needed to leave before he did or said something that he would come to regret.

**I had wanted to introduce Sirius and Tony but it'll happen next chapter together with Harry's Fourteenth birthday and our favorite engineer reunion with Honeybear, Pepper and Happy!**

**Anyway… Hope you liked it and please, don't forget to:**

**Review, Favorite or Follow and if you have questions/suggestions, just send me a PM. **

**-Cissnei. **

**TIMELINE!**

**July 26, 2009 – **_Tony learns about the existence of magic._

_*****__Healer Taylor of the Department of Non-Magical Injuries of St. Mungos comes to check on Tony._

**July 27, 2009 – **_Harry, James and Tony spends the day in Rosewood's Mews, looking at the shops_

**July 28, 2009 – **_Healer Taylor and Healer Summers comes to see Tony._

**July 30, 2009 – **_James reveals the truth._

_*****__Fred and George invites Harry to the World Cup._

**CURIOSITY TIME!**

**Dimensional Transcendentalism:**_ The state wherein an object's interior is bigger than its exterior, an effect made possible by _transdimensional engineering_. In _Doctor Who_, the _First Doctor_ was the first to attempt to explain at how his TARDIS was bigger on the inside to _Ian Chesterton_ and _Barbara Wright_ by saying the TARDIS box was just an entrance chamber to a fourth dimension and that a reversal of time acceleration occurs at the inner door. Therefore, all but the box was invisible to the outside world. Another account stated that the interior of the TARDIS existed _"outside [humans'] world of size"_ altogether._


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